


A Season Away

by Gort



Series: A Season Away [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 0-8-4s, 1920s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient Egypt, F/M, Feminist Themes, Guns, Happy Ending, Letters, Marriage Proposal, Minor Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie/Yo Yo Rodriguez, Minor Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse, Minor Phil Coulson/Melinda May, Minor Pipsy, Minor Violence, Nile cruise, Past Andrew Garner/Melinda May, Rival Archaeologists, Trapped In A Tomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-08-28 04:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16716751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/pseuds/Gort
Summary: Newly-minted archeologist Jemma Simmons dreams of joining a dig in Egypt, but no one is willing to take a chance on her until Melinda May arrives with a proposition and a strange map. Leo Fitz is too busy celebrating his luck at landing the head archeologist position on an Egyptian expedition to wonder why Phil Coulson would want to dig in the middle of nowhere. Now the race is on to uncover the mystery buried in the desert before it falls into the wrong hands, all while Fitz and Jemma discover just how well they fit together.Beta'd by Sunalso, who continues to be the best.





	1. London

**Author's Note:**

> It's a 1920s Egyptian adventure! No archeological sites or ancient artifacts were harmed in the making of this story (Jemma would kill me).

The room was thick with dust, lazily floating down in clouds undisturbed by air currents. Reaching up, Jemma grabbed a lopsided cardboard box and pulled it towards her, sending more dust flying. It was stuffy and hot down in the bowels of the basement, due to the unexpected late September warmth, but since her task had no end in sight it wasn’t as though she had to push herself.

Jemma sneezed and dug into her pocket for a handkerchief, glad that at least down here she didn’t get any strange looks for wearing trousers instead of the supposedly fashionable dresses her mother kept stuffing into her wardrobe. Swiping at her watery eyes, Jemma grabbed the box she’d just retrieved, grimacing at the layer of grime on top of it, and headed for the table she’d claimed as her workspace.

Setting the heavy box down, she squinted at it, trying to read the faded markings on one side. She could just make out a letter G and possibly a three or an eight following it. The rest of the numbers were too worn off to read. Lovely, it was another Greek mystery box. At least her father would be happy. Jemma made quick work of the decaying string halfheartedly holding the flaps closed and pulled the top open, holding her breath as another cloud of dust floated free.

Her shoulders slumped when she caught sight of the contents and a sigh slipped through her lips. More coins. Well, there went the rest of her day. It always took an inordinate amount of time to carefully catalog and label each one properly, and then, undoubtedly, her father would want to check her work before letting her move on.

Jemma wrinkled her nose and pulled her notebook closer. The sooner she was finished with this box, the sooner she could choose another one, and maybe this time she’d get lucky and find a forgotten treasure trove of Egyptian artifacts. There must be some in this mess of a storage room. It looked like the museum had been stuffing boxes down here for the last fifty years, at least, unable to find space for all their bequests and acquisitions.

When she’d first broached the subject of working at the museum with her father, she’d been hoping for a position in the research laboratory, but of course, they hadn’t accepted her, despite her certificate in Egyptology from the University College. She’d completed her courses in the spring and had spent the ensuing months presenting herself to the backers of every expedition she’d caught wind of, only to be politely turned down in favor of someone else. It didn’t escape her notice that the final choices were always male.

It was beyond frustrating.

She’d spent the whole of summer trapped in this airless room. Her dreams of seeing sand swept landscapes hiding exciting discoveries were slowly dwindling as the start of the season neared and her prospects grew slimmer.

Reaching into the box, Jemma pulled out a small stack of carefully wrapped coins and set them on the table before grabbing her magnifying glass and settling onto a stool she’d commandeered from the hall. The legs were uneven, and it was a bit wobbly, which was likely why it’d been abandoned down in the basement like all of these other neglected things, but she’d been glad to find it after she’d spend the first few days down here hunched over the table and gone home with her back aching.

“Jemma?” a voice called, causing her to jerk her head up.

“Yes?” She turned on her stool as her father came into the room. Arthur Simmons wasn’t an imposing man, but his years working as a curator for the Greek and Roman collections had given him an air of authority that most people tended to defer to, aside from Jemma. He was wearing his usual three-piece suit and tie and Jemma couldn’t even begin to imagine how uncomfortably warm that must be here in the basement. He didn’t usually venture down to see her. “Is everything alright?” She sat up straight. “Is it Mr. Roberts? He said he’d get back to me regarding a position in his expedition to Saqqara. Did he…”

Her father shook his head. “No, my dear, I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Jemma deflated. “He’s not going to choose me, is he?”

Instead of answering, her father held out a letter. “The post came,” he said, injecting a bit of false cheer into his voice. “You’ve got another letter from Edinburgh.”

Something fluttered deep in Jemma’s belly, though she tried to keep her expression neutral. It’d been a few weeks since she’d last had a letter from Fitz. This, at least, was one happy thing to come out of the last few maddeningly unproductive months.

One of her professors had encouraged her to submit her research— a treatise on the use of mummies in determining the advancement of medical care in Ancient Egypt—to the Royal Archeological Institute and, much to the everyone but Jemma’s surprise, it’d been chosen for publication. She’d known it was excellent work, so she’d taken care to use only her initials and last name for the submission, and to post it from her father’s office.

The surprise for her had come in the form of a letter, posted the day after her article had appeared in the _Journal_ _of the British_ _Archeological Association,_ asking for clarification on a point she’d made regarding bone fractures. It had been one of the most thrilling moments of Jemma’s life, knowing someone wanted to discuss her work instead of immediately dismissing her due to her gender. The letter had been addressed to J.A. Simmons, and it wasn’t until she opened it and read the salutation that she realized what had happened.

While she’d been intent on simply fooling the journal’s peer-review board, poor Mr. Fitz also had no idea she was a woman.

Jemma hadn’t meant to deceive him—well, not after responding to his first letter anyways—but she’d never expected him to write a second time, asking for her opinion on an x-ray he’d seen in the course of his own archeological studies. It had been so refreshing to have someone treat her as their intellectual equal that she’d rather deliberately let the charade continue and now it’d gone on long enough she had no idea how to correct the misunderstanding without losing what felt like a dear friend.

“Thank you,” Jemma said, taking the letter from her father. It was rather lighter than the previous one, which had been stuffed with several technical drawings comparing load-bearing capacities of various antechambers, and she found herself a bit anxious. Fitz was always trying to convince her that discovering how they built the pyramids was just as important to understanding the lives of Ancient Egyptians as the study of mummies, a point on which Jemma did not agree, and it usually made for long and lively debates. What if he’d caught her out at last?

“Have you given any thought to my offer of staying on here?” her father asked. Jemma forced herself to set the letter aside, though she wanted to tear it open immediately to see how angry Fitz was with her.

“Father,” she sighed. She hated disappointing him, but her dream since she was a little girl had been to visit Egypt and see the wonders there. He was well aware of that, since he’d been the one to spark her infatuation of archeology in the first place after bringing her to this very museum to see the Rosetta Stone.

“We could always use someone with your skills,” her father coaxed, knowing just what she wanted to hear.

Jemma had not worked this hard only to end up in a musty museum basement for the rest of her career. She wanted to travel and have adventures and…and not live the life she knew her mother expected of her, where she’d play the doting wife to a husband who’d never lift a finger around the house and didn’t give a fig about her dreams. It was the twentieth century, for heaven’s sake, and she was a modern woman. She didn’t need that kind of nonsense. Though, unfortunately, at the moment, she didn’t have any other prospects.

“I’ll consider it,” she said glumly.

“Splendid.” Her father beamed at her. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Jemma barely waited until her father’s footsteps had faded before grabbing her post from Fitz and opening the envelope with much less finesse than usual. Taking a deep breath, she unfolded the letter.

***

“Sláinte.” Fitz lifted his glass, clinking it against Hunter’s.

“Same to you, mate,” Hunter replied, downing his pint in two gulps before setting the glass back on the bar and gesturing for another round. Fitz tried to finish his own drink, only managing half before the barman had set two more in front of them.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Fitz said, giving up on keeping pace with Hunter. “For recommending me to Mr. Coulson, I mean.”

Hunter slapped him on the back harder than Fitz was prepared for, making him slosh some beer out of his glass. “What are friends for?”

Fitz lifted his eyebrows, unsure how to answer. Truthfully, he’d known Hunter barely a month, and yet somehow the other man had unfailingly dragged him out to the pub most nights like they’d been best mates since childhood. Fitz had been the proud owner of one shiny new archeology degree with only the vaguest idea of what to do with it when Hunter had bumped into him on the street one day, nearly knocking him over, and had then proceeded to apologize with a pint down at the local. Followed by several more pints.

Whatever fate had sent Hunter his way, however, must have been looking on Fitz favorably, because it’d turned out that Hunter had an American friend in desperate need of an archeologist to lead a dig down in Egypt, and for some reason, they’d decided Fitz was just the man to do it. He’d met Coulson over drinks (of course) last week to finalize the details, and tonight, Hunter had turned up at his door with a steamer ticket before dragging him down to the local to celebrate.

Fitz patted his jacket pocket, still hardly believing his luck, checking to make sure the ticket was still there. He hoped his last letter to Simmons got through before the other man left for the season. He’d rather enjoyed the debate they had going and imagined it would be even more energetic if they ever met in person. Not that Hunter wasn’t entertaining company, but the man knew next to nothing about archeology.

“This is fantastic.” Hunter beamed at him. “Always wanted to meet a belly dancer.”

Fitz rolled his eyes. He could always rely on Hunter to conjure up the most absurd images, like women with dark hair and shining eyes, their hips swaying...Fitz shook his head. As though belly dancers would be anywhere near an excavation site. “Thought you’d sworn off women?”

“No!” Hunter said, sounding offended. “I swore off _a_ woman, that’s entirely different.”

Fitz paused, his pint halfway to his mouth, as the other meaning of Hunter’s remark registered. “Hang on, you’re coming to Egypt?”

“It’s going to be great,” Hunter said, regaining his good spirits and lifting his arm for another teeth-rattling back slap.

Fitz scooted just out of reach and Hunter was distracted by the barman bringing him another pint. “What are you…I mean, what’s your role in the expedition, then?” Fitz asked.

“Jack of all trades.” Hunter shot him a wink. “Every great team needs one, eh?”

“I suppose,” Fitz replied cautiously. Far be it for him to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially one that took him to the land of the Great Pyramid, but this was all happening almost a bit too conveniently. He and his mum had barely managed to scrape by after his da hadn’t come back from the war, and Fitz had studied hard for the chance to attend University, winning a highly covetable grant to cover his fees. Nothing in his life had ever come this easily. “What did you say Mr. Coulson did again?”

“Oh, you know rich folks.” Hunter gestured with his half-downed pint, and Fitz refrained from saying that no, actually, he didn’t. “Always dabbling in everything—stocks, bonds, pretty girls, fingers in lots of pies and what have you.”

“Right. And why has he suddenly decided to fund this expedition?”

Hunter gave Fitz an amused grin. “What, you forgot to ask?”

“No!” Fitz said, offended. “That is, he told me he’s got a dig permit for a site near Luxor, and that he’s looking for a tomb of some kind, even though I told him that area’s not really known for them, but he didn’t give a reason for the sudden interest.”

“Ah, the whims of the wealthy,” Hunter said. “Must be nice.”

Fitz let out an exasperated sigh. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“Mate.” Hunter looked more serious than he had all night, and Fitz’s niggling worry grew. “What is it, some girl you can’t leave behind? She’s not up the spout is she?”

Fitz nearly choked on his pint. “What? No! There’s no…it’s not a girl.” He scowled at Hunter. “Some of us are capable of thinking of things other than girls.” Sometimes. It wasn’t really the thinking that tripped him up so much as the actual talking. He hadn’t yet met a girl who’d seemed impressed by his knowledge of Ancient Egyptian building theories, and he knew next to nothing about fashion or the latest dance crazes that seemed to fascinate the opposite sex.

“Ah, well, more for me.” Hunter’s grin was back, though Fitz didn’t feel very reassured. “What’s this place going to be like, do you think?”

“Hot,” Fitz said, trying not to roll his eyes. Only Hunter would agree to travel thousands of miles to a place he’d never been with no clue as to what to expect when he got there. “Dry. Lots of sand, hopefully with an ancient structure of some kind buried under it.” He paused, debating, before deciding it was best to dash Hunter’s hopes now. “And likely a dearth of belly dancers.”

Hunter’s face fell.

***

Jemma dropped Fitz’s letter to the table like it’d burned her, unable to continue reading. Her chest felt tight, and she was having trouble breathing. It was too hot down here in this bloody basement.

She glared at the innocent page filled with Fitz’s writing, biting her tongue to keep from swearing out loud in case her father was still in earshot.

How dare Fitz write to tell her about his good fortune, pretending it’d come as a surprise. Of course he’d found a patron for an expedition straight away, and had been offered the position of head archeologist. He hadn’t had to suffer the indignity of listening to the ridiculous boastings of someone who hadn’t updated his education in the last decade but still believed themselves smarter than a mere woman, nor had Fitz had to experience the heartbreak of being passed over for a yet another classmate who’d barely made passing marks. Fitz was a man, wasn’t he? And judging by Jemma’s slew of rejections, that seemed to be the most important qualification.

What absolute rubbish.

Jemma’s shoulders slumped, and she let out a long sigh. Guilt washed through her. Whatever her fate, it wasn’t Fitz’s fault. She’d made sure to tell him of all the expeditions she’d inquired about, speculating on what might be found at each potential site this season, but she’d never told him they’d all turned her down. She couldn’t bear him pitying her, or worse, thinking she was incompetent.

Reluctantly, she reached out and picked up the letter again. It was short, barely two pages, and there were several blots of ink when he was usually meticulous about his writing. He must have been very excited. It was nice that he’d wanted to share this news with her, knowing she’d appreciate it in a way no one else could.

Gently, she touched the scrawl of her name at the top of the page, the ‘Simmons’, he’d dashed out without bothering to add a salutation at all. As though they truly were colleagues. Equals. Except he was going on an expedition to Egypt—somewhere near Luxor, he’d mentioned in the letter—while she was stuck here for the foreseeable future. Jemma gazed about the storage room, wondering if the contents stuffed inside it were the closest she was ever going to get to make a real discovery, before returning her attention to the paper in her hand.

The worst part came near the end, where he’d written that if she ended up excavating near Luxor they should take the opportunity to continue their debate in person. It was a lovely thought, and the kind of thing a friend would suggest, which she deeply appreciated. Jemma suspected she really would have enjoyed meeting him if such a thing were possible.

But that was a mere flight of fancy. She wouldn’t be in Luxor for the season because no one wanted a woman in their expedition, and even if she somehow miraculously was able to meet Fitz, he would likely be quite put out by her lie of omission. Jemma couldn’t imagine that ending well.

Pushing the letter away, she crossed her arms over the table and dropped her head onto them, struggling to contain the tears welling up in her eyes. She wanted to be happy for Fitz, she really did, but instead, it just felt like she’d been left behind.

She could feel her dream slipping away, and she had no idea how to stop it.

***

Fitz managed to leave the pub under his own steam, which he felt quite proud of considering Hunter’s insistence on one last round that had turned into three before Fitz called it a night. Visions of rocks and sand hiding tombs full of wonderful things danced through his mind, along with the rather blurry cobblestones under his feet.

He stopped on a corner to get his bearings, propping one shoulder against the building beside him. He didn’t want to end up on the other end of town from his flat like last time. If he squinted slightly, the sign of another pub just ahead stopped wavering long enough for him to read it. Ah, yes, he was on the right course.

Pleased with his directional abilities, which would surely come in handy during his excavation, Fitz stumbled across the street and passed through the square of light spilling from the pub windows. Stuffing his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill, he thought gratefully of the warm weather he’d be enjoying soon enough when a man suddenly appeared in his path. Fitz drew up short, but it was too late to avoid a collision, and their shoulders connected, sending them careening in opposite directions a moment later.

“Sorry!” an American-accented voice called. “Sorry, pal, didn’t see you there.”

“’S fine,” Fitz managed, trying to stand up straight and appear more sober than he knew he was. The man’s unassuming face swam in front of him.

“Hey,” the guy said, stooping down to retrieve something from the sidewalk. “You dropped this. Looks important.”

Fitz gaped at his steamer ticket before snatching it back and stuffing it deep in his jacket pocket. Bloody hell, if he’d lost that…he shuddered. “Uh, thanks,” he mumbled to the American. The other man was tall with his dark hair cropped short and despite his earlier, uncoordinated stumble into Fitz’s path, he seemed much less drunk than most people coming out of a local this late at night.

“Sure.” Giving Fitz a wave, the man turned and headed in the opposite direction while Fitz clutched protectively at his jacket pocket and started for home once more.

He was about to head out on an adventure. He couldn’t wait to see what he’d find.


	2. Alexandria

Glumly, Jemma planted her chin on her hand and contemplated the bit of broken pottery in front of her. Cataloging pottery fragments, she was quickly discovering, was even more time-consuming than ancient coins. These ones weren’t even very old, she noticed, wrinkling her nose at the dates printed on the enclosed list. Late Roman, at best. She poked at the shard in front of her, trying to drum up some kind enthusiasm for her work, when she heard footsteps heading in her direction.

“Jemma?” her father called.

She swiveled on her stool in surprise. That was twice now in the same fortnight. It couldn’t be another letter so soon. She hadn’t replied to Fitz’s last one, unable to decide what to write and even less sure as to where she would send it. He must nearly be to Alexandria by now, she thought enviously.

“Yes?”

Her father’s head popped through the doorframe before disappearing again. “Well, come on then, I’ve got someone in my office who’d like to meet you.”

Jemma stood up, confused. “In your office?”

“Let’s not keep them waiting!” she heard him say, sounding like he was already halfway down the hall. Jemma hurried out the door and straightened her blouse, hoping she wasn’t completely covered in dust. She reached up, checking to be sure her hair hadn’t all escaped the bun she’d hastily gathered it into this morning. Her father was waiting by the stairs, and he gave her a smile as she caught up to him. “Ready?”

“For what?” she asked curiously as they climbed the stairs. He had that look in his eye that usually boded well for her, like the time he’d convinced her mother Egyptology was a perfectly respectable pursuit for a modern young woman, or when he’d helped to extricate her from the clutches of the most boring man she’d ever met at the last dinner party she’d been required to attend. Hope began to bubble up in her chest. “Is it Mr. Roberts?” she asked hopefully. “Has he changed his mind?”

“Even better, I think,” her father responded, pulling open a door for her and following her through. The hall to his office was quiet this time of day, thick carpeting muffling their footsteps. The ever-present scent of mustiness permeated the air.

Jemma frowned, trying to guess what could possibly be better than finally going on an excavation, at least in her father’s eyes. “The research laboratory has agreed to take me on?” she asked.

Her father gave her a fond look and stopped in front of his office, his expression becoming more serious. “Remember, whatever you decide, we’ll still have to explain it to your mother, so consider carefully, my dear.”

Jemma nodded, nervously fisting her hands into the fabric of her loose trousers before smoothing them down again. “Yes, father.”

“Right.” He gave her a clipped nod and ushered her inside. Two women looked up from their tea, both dressed very elegantly, though it didn’t escape Jemma’s notice they were also in trousers. She thought she might like them already.

“Jemma,” her father said. “This is Mrs. Melinda May and Miss Daisy Johnson, they’re visiting from America. Ladies, this is my daughter, Jemma Simmons.”

“Please, call me May,” the older woman said, uncrossing her legs and standing. She wasn’t much taller than Jemma, but her presence was quite commanding. She held out her hand and Jemma took it. May’s grip was firm and no-nonsense, and Jemma’s excitement went up another notch. Americans, her father had said, but what were they doing here?

“I’m Daisy,” the other woman said, giving Jemma a friendly wave from her position by the window. Jemma eyed Daisy’s dark, bobbed hair enviously. It looked so wonderfully freeing.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Jemma said.

Her father cleared his throat. “Apparently, they’ve been on the hunt for someone brilliant to help them with some sort of special project,” he said.

“You come very highly recommended,” May said, her gaze seeming to penetrate Jemma’s practiced politeness. “I spoke to several of your professors at the University College.”

Jemma’s heart sped up. “You did? I mean, that’s very kind of them.”

“I’d say I’m surprised you’re available for the season, but it’s not really a surprise, is it? People are so quick to underestimate a woman.”

Daisy snorted from over by the window.

“I’m looking for an archeologist to lead an excavation near Luxor. Are you interested?” May asked casually like she wasn’t offering Jemma what she wanted most in the entire world.

Jemma opened her mouth but was utterly at a loss for what to say, which she was fairly certain was a first.

“Yes, well, she’s been doing excellent work here,” Jemma’s father cut in. “I know we’d hate to lose her, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. What do you think, Jemma?”

“Yes,” Jemma breathed, finally coming to her senses. “Yes, oh my goodness, of course I accept!” She could barely restrain herself from jumping up and down with glee. 

“Excellent,” May said. “Daisy and I have had a devil of a time trying to find just the right person for this job, but I can tell we’re going to get on just fine.”

“I…” There were a million questions swirling through Jemma’s head, but she settled on the most pertinent for now. “When are we leaving?”

***

Fitz headed down the gangplank of the ship, trying to keep his companions in sight. The docks at Alexandria were disappointingly similar to the docks they’d departed from in Scotland, roiling with people yelling and calling to one another, though the weather was much nicer, and the language was different. The air smelled different, too, drier with a hint of spice instead of the heavy, wet scent that came sweeping in off the moors.

Fitz shouldered his bag and followed Hunter through the crush of people disembarking from the steamer, glad to finally be on solid ground again. The journey had only lasted two weeks, but it’d felt much longer, between Hunter’s complaints of seasickness and Coulson’s friendly chatter that always left Fitz feeling faintly nervous, like he was sitting for an exam he hadn’t prepared for.

Coulson didn’t behave how Fitz imagined a rich man would. He hadn’t scoffed at the ship’s accommodations, which were middling at best, or turned up his nose at some of the less-than-savory dishes they’d been served. Instead, Coulson reminded Fitz of a professor he’d known, an older man who’d come back from the war with a limp and the attitude that everything in the world deserved proper contemplation, from burned biscuits to blades of grass. “You never know what value lies beneath the surface of something,” he’d often said, “until you look closely.”

Fitz had always appreciated that sentiment and had applied it to his studies more often than not. What looked like a blob of mud could have been part of a city fortification, or a bit of broken stone might be what was left of a great temple. Archeology wasn’t all flashy gold masks and undiscovered Pharaoh’s tombs, after all.

Strangely, Fitz often felt that Coulson was applying that same principle to him, and he sincerely hoped he wasn’t going to be a disappointment.

“Coulson!” someone called. Fitz looked up in time to see a very large man slap Coulson on the back in greeting.

“Good to see you, Mack,” Coulson said. “This is Fitz, our archeologist.”

Mack offered his hand and Fitz took it, feeling quite dwarfed. “Good to meet you,” Mack said, his friendly smile putting Fitz as ease. “Welcome to Egypt.”

“Thanks?” Fitz ventured.

“Hunter!” Mack yelled suddenly, peering over the heads of everyone around them. “Get your hands off my wife!”

A woman appeared at Mack’s side and swatted at his arm. “Enough, cariño.” She smiled at Fitz. “Elena.” She extended her hand and Fitz shook it quickly, watching Mack warily out of the corner of his eye.

“Mack’s our Cairo connection,” Coulson said to Fitz, apparently unphased. “And Elena’s the best translator this side of the Atlantic.”

Elena snorted. “On both sides,” she muttered under her breath.

Mack slung an arm over her shoulders and grinned. “We got everything you need for the dig, and Piper should be there to meet you in Luxor. We’ll, uh, hold down the fort here.” His eyes slid away from Fitz, and not for the first time, Fitz was sure he was missing something. “There’s a telegraph office in Luxor if you need one.”

Coulson looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Any sign?”

Mack shook his head. “Nope. Nothing.” He shot Fitz another smile, though this one seemed slightly more forced. “Weather’s been holding steady. Shouldn’t give you any trouble.”

“Let us know if that changes,” Coulson said. Mack nodded.

Fitz shifted uneasily, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Uh, this tomb we’re looking for…”

Coulson clamped a hand down on his shoulder. “You’re right, Fitz, we should get a move on,” he said. “Mack, Elena, I can’t thank you enough. We’ll keep you posted on anything we find.”

Mack glanced over at Fitz. “Be careful out there.”

***

Jemma took a deep breath, reveling in the salty air up on the windswept deck of their ship. The sun was just beginning to sink below the horizon. She kept wanting to pinch herself to prove she wasn’t dreaming. Somehow, she’d actually done it. She was off to explore the wonders of Egypt.

Her father, bless him, had run interference when Jemma had informed her mother about joining May’s expedition, and she suspected he might have even had a hand in getting the proper documents in order, because their dig permit had been approved with surprising expediency. It was nice to know she had his vote of confidence.

And May’s, Jemma supposed. Her new patron was quite intense, though she seemed to like Jemma well enough, and Daisy was talkative enough for both of them. Another member of their party had joined them just before the ship had left the docks, a tall, willowy blonde that seemed not to notice the heads she’d turned as she strode up the gangplank with a determined expression on her face. Daisy had introduced her as Bobbi, an American anthropologist who’d been working in Scotland, and she and Jemma had quickly settled into an easy conversation about ancient cultures, becoming fast friends.

Jemma hadn’t expected to fit in so easily with an expedition team, it was a quite thrilling feeling, although she had found herself accidentally boring Bobbi at dinner tonight by describing the intricate details of how to properly wrap a mummy.

Glancing around, Jemma saw only one other person strolling the deck, a fellow passenger with eyes like Clara Bow and wearing a cloche with a line of multicolored flowers marching around the brim. She didn’t so much as glance in Jemma’s direction. Jemma settled onto a bench sheltered from the wind and pulled the last letter Fitz had sent her from her coat pocket to read it again. She’d nearly memorized it at this point and knew the location of every ink splotch and struck-through word. He’d written that he’d be excavating near Luxor, but he hadn’t including any details and had been frustratingly vague about the exact location.

Now that Jemma was also going to be in Luxor, the temptation to finally meet the man behind the letters she’d received was stronger than she’d expected. She couldn’t imagine he’d be anything but disappointed and angry to learn she’d deceived him, even if it hadn’t been an act of malice on her part, but she dearly wished she could put a face to the name scrawled at the bottom of her letters.

Jemma frowned. Perhaps there was a way to do both? She could keep her friend, the one man who spoke to her just like he would to any other colleague, and see him, as well. There weren’t many hotels he could be staying at in Luxor, and Fitz wasn’t a very common name. If she inquired after him and found out where he was, she could leave him a note and then just…not show up at the appointed time. Well, J.A. Simmons wouldn’t show, anyways, but Jemma could always walk by, and Fitz wouldn’t suspect a thing. She’d be sure to send a nice apology afterward, with some invented emergency, and he’d never be the wiser. She tapped the letter against her lips, considering.

A strand of hair got loose from her chignon, flapping against her cheek. She tucked it behind her ear just as Daisy plopped down on the bench beside her, startling her.

“You look like you’re planning a siege,” Daisy said. “The enemy doesn’t stand a chance.”

Hastily stuffing the letter back into her pocket, Jemma turned to her. Daisy’s cloche, a dove grey one decorated with a large bow, kept her hair neatly contained with nary a runaway strand in sight. “I’m quite jealous of how short you keep your hair,” Jemma confessed, leaning back and gazing out over the ocean. “My mother would have fits if I cut mine like that, but I can’t imagine May cares in the least.”

“Oh, May’s not my mom, not my real one, anyways,” Daisy said, shooting Jemma a small smile. “I grew up in an orphanage, and she just kind of...I don’t know, adopted me, I guess? Not officially or anything, but she helped me find my first job and a place to live and before I knew it she was dragging me to France because I’d mentioned being interested in the latest fashions and now…” Daisy shrugged. “I guess she’s the closest I have to family.”

“It sounds like she feels the same way,” Jemma said.

Daisy beamed. “I got lucky. So, who’s the enemy and when are we taking them down?”

“There’s no enemy,” Jemma said, feeling her cheeks heat. “I just…it’s frustrating, sometimes, to have people think you’re not capable of something just because you’re a woman.”

“Story of our lives,” Daisy said wryly.

“I can hardly believe we’re on our way to Egypt, you know, I’d nearly given up hope I’d ever get the chance.”

“I guess the universe really wanted you to go to Egypt.”

Jemma glanced at Daisy, bemused. “I sincerely doubt the universe has any feelings about it one way or the other, but I am very glad that you and May were looking for an Egyptologist in London after most of them had already left for the season. I can’t imagine you had a lot of choices.”

“You don’t think you were just meant to be in the right place at the right time?” Daisy asked.

“I think we all make choices that affect the outcome of our lives, but I certainly don’t believe in fate, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Daisy wrinkled her nose. “But fate’s way more fun.”

“Girls.” May appeared from around the corner, her usual stern expression firmly in place. “My cabin, now.”

Jemma glanced at Daisy in surprise, but Daisy just shrugged as they stood up and followed May down to the lower deck, filing into her cabin. She shut the door behind them and Jemma gasped. The entire room was in disarray, drawers pulled out and overturned, the mattress stripped of its sheets and slightly askew.

“What happened?” Jemma asked.

“Did either of you notice anything or anyone strange at dinner?” May asked, crossing her arms.

Daisy and Jemma both shook their heads as a knock sounded at the door. May yanked it open to find Bobbi on the other side and ushered her in as well. “How’s your room?” May asked.

“Looks like this,” Bobbi sighed. “I already cornered one of the porters, but he swears he didn’t see anything.”

“Why would someone do this?” Jemma asked in confusion.

May shoved a handful of clothing off a chair and sat down heavily. “They’re probably looking for this.” She reached down and pulled up one loose leg of her trousers, retrieving a piece of paper from where she’d tucked it into the top of her stocking. There was also, rather startlingly, a very small gun strapped to her thigh. Jemma looked around, but no one else seemed very surprised. Perhaps this was some American quirk she’d have to get used to.

“What is it?” Bobbi asked, frowning and reaching for the paper.

“A map. One from Andrew’s things,” May said softly. This, at least, made sense to Jemma. May had mentioned her late husband a few times since they’d come aboard. He, like so many others, hadn’t survived the war.

“It just looks like some tourist thing,” Bobbi said, peering at the paper.

“The government thought so too, which was why they let me have it, but I believe it might be real.”

“This is why we’re going on some wild goose chase to Luxor?” Bobbi asked, turning the paper in her hand and cocking her head to one side.

May rolled her eyes and plucked it out of Bobbi’s hands, giving it to Jemma. “What do you think?”

Jemma stared at May in surprise before glancing down. It was still a bit strange to be asked for her opinion so often. Narrowing her eyes, Jemma canted the thick paper, noticing it didn’t seem that old, perhaps a few years at most, and traced one of the lines drawn on it with her finger. “It’s the Nile,” she whispered.

May gave her a rare smile. “I knew you’d see it.” Jemma tentatively smiled back.

“Oh no,” Daisy gasped. “What about our room?” She grabbed Jemma’s arm and dragged her towards the door. Jemma handed the map back to May, hoping she’d get a chance to study it further later, and let Daisy pull her down the hall.

“Daisy, I’m sure everything’s…” Jemma gaped at the mess in their room. Their clothes and toiletries were scattered about, and the beds stripped just like May’s had been. “My letters!” Jemma said in dismay, picking up a piece of paper up from the floor and then another, tears pricking at her eyes. She knew it was silly to care so much about a person she’d never met, and who likely wouldn’t give her the time of day if he knew who she really was, but it hurt to think someone had so carelessly disregarded Fitz’s work.

“Here,” Daisy said, handing her another page covered in an intricate drawing of the interior of the Great Pyramid. “What are these, notes from one of your classes or something?”

Jemma scrubbed at her eyes and tried to pull herself together. “Yes, something like that. I just want to make sure they’re all here.” Carefully, she made a neat pile as Daisy sorted through the mess of their room, relieved to find not a page missing.

“Daisy,” Jemma said softly, placing the letters into one of her trunks. She’d put them back in order later. “Why would someone do this?”

Daisy’s head popped up from the other side of the bed and she dumped a handful of smallclothes on the mattress. “Beats me, I knew about the map, but we’re not really sure what we’re looking for.” She looked around their room. “Except I guess now we know that someone thinks it’s pretty important.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/zN2rDfD)  
> 
> 
> Pyramids and Sphinx of Giza, ca. 1900’s


	3. Base Camp

Jemma was entranced.

She’d woken in darkness, the sway of the train car unfamiliar but soothing, and the sound of Daisy’s quiet breathing in the bunk nearby keeping her company as she quickly dressed and headed for the observation car. She’d taken tea in the Egyptian way, hot and bright with mint and sugar, and watched with fascination as the sun began to brighten the landscape.

They’d gone through Cairo in the dark, stopping briefly before continuing on their journey, and Jemma had only been able to catch a glimpse of the great city, bustling even so late in the evening. She hoped perhaps they would spend a few days there when they’d finished their excavation, but until then, she contented herself with the fact that she was here, that she’d made it to Egypt after all. It still felt a little unbelievable.

The sun rose quickly, spreading its rays across a desolate plain of browns and grays, with intricate patterns worn into the soil. On the other side of the car, the windows looked out over a forest of green clinging to the edge of the wide ribbon that was the Nile, snaking through the desert. All of the pictures she’d seen, all the drawings, none of them had done it justice. It was exactly like what she’d imagined, and nothing like it at all. 

Daisy had tried to coax her away from the train windows with breakfast, a rousing game of Pit, and an offer to arrange her hair in a faux-bob, which had been quite tempting. But Jemma couldn’t bear to tear her eyes from the scenery sliding by outside.

May settled beside her as the sun reached its peak and everyone headed to the dining car. They sat in silence for a few minutes, passing a tumble of sun-bleached stones that sent Jemma’s imagination soaring as she tried to picture what they once may have been. Fitz must be absolutely beside himself with joy, surrounded by all these ancient structures. 

A tea tray with a plate of sandwiches appeared between their chairs, and May poured, handing Jemma a cup before taking one for herself.

“You need to eat,” May said. “We’re still a few hours from Luxor.”

“Yes, of course,” Jemma said, groping for a sandwich and taking the first one her fingers landed on. She paused, watching in fascination as the train passed a large steamer traveling up the river, before taking a bite and beginning to chew, making a face a moment later. “Oh,” she said in surprise. “This is unexpected.” She peered at the sandwich in her hand. “Is it falafel?”

“I thought we might enjoy it more than the overcooked vegetables they’re serving the others.”

Jemma looked over in surprise to find May gazing out the window with a tiny smile on her face. “I think you’re right,” Jemma replied. She took another bite, trying to parse out all the flavors. “It’s quite good.”

They ate in companionable silence, and May waited until Jemma set her empty teacup aside before standing. “I’d like to consult with you privately if you can spare a few minutes.”

Jemma scrambled from her chair, feeling suddenly wrongfooted. Here she was mooning at the scenery when she was supposed to be working. “I’m sorry, yes, of course. What can I-”

May held up a hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for. We’re all on the same team and, I think, will work together quite well. Daisy and Bobbi and I are all glad you could join us.”

Jemma felt her cheeks heat. “I…thank you.” May inclined her head and led the way back toward their berths, where she invited Jemma to sit before locking the door and retrieving her map from its hiding place on her person. Jemma eyed the tiny pistol May carried. “Do you think it’s going to be dangerous?” Jemma blurted before she could stop herself.

Letting her pant leg fall back to the floor in a cascade of silken black fabric, May contemplated Jemma for a moment. “I had hoped it wouldn’t be,” May said. “But I don’t know exactly what we’re looking for, just that Andrew thought this was important enough to carry around with him, and apparently, someone else wants it. I’ll do my best to keep everyone safe.”

Nodding cautiously, Jemma took the map as May handed it over and touched her finger to the line of the Nile again before examining the rest of it, turning it over, and frowning. “There’s no legend.”

May shook her head. “No, and I have only a rough idea of where this-” she tapped a spot marked with red ink and circled near the bottom of the map, “might be. Do you think you could get us a more accurate location?”

Jemma frowned at the paper, critically examining it. There were several strange symbols written next to the red circle, but she didn’t recognize them. It wasn’t demotic or hieroglyphic or any of the other ancient languages she was at least passingly familiar with. “What language is this?” she asked curiously.

Shrugging, May leaned back against her seat. “I haven’t found anyone who can tell me that yet.”

Intrigued, Jemma bent over the paper and slowly traced the line of the Nile again. Various dots scattered along both sides of it marked places she was familiar with as excavation sites, as well as some of the larger cities, without differentiating between them. “I think it’s to a scale of some sort. I just need to figure out what it is,” Jemma said, lifting her head.

“Take all the time you need,” May said. “But the map doesn’t leave my sight. We don’t want to flash it around if it’s what someone’s after.”

Jemma stared down at the seemingly innocuous paper in her hands, her throat dry. Wherever they were going, she’d certainly found her adventure. 

***

Fitz watched the sun crest the horizon and took a sip of his tea, squinting into the sudden brightness. Blast, he’d left his hat back in his tent again. Sighing, he took another drink. At least he’d beaten Coulson to the kettle this morning and had been able to brew a cuppa before his patron had filled it with that godawful sludge he called coffee. Fitz had choked down some of Coulson’s gritty, bitter brew his first day out and had vowed to do whatever it took to never suffer through it again.

They’d been at their dig site nearly three weeks now, with nary a sign of the tomb Coulson was supposedly looking for. Fitz had marked a few promising areas for them to excavate, but the parameters Coulson was holding him to were quite specific and Fitz hadn’t been able to explore the valley around them as thoroughly as he would have liked.

As frustrating as it was to feel like he was still in the dark about what, exactly, they were looking for, he had to admit it was rather exciting to feel like they were on the brink of discovering something.

Their brief stopover in Luxor had been just long enough for Fitz to see a few of the temple remnants scattered throughout the city, and Hunter had nearly dragged him back to the hotel while Fitz calculated the height and weight of the stones, fascinated by the forests of pillars that had endured for thousands of years. Some of the reliefs still had pigments clinging to them, hinting at the vibrant, colorful place that had once occupied the very place he was standing. Simmons would have been ecstatic to see how well preserved the carvings were, he was sure of it.

Coulson had insisted they stay on site instead of retiring to a hotel at the end of each day, saving the more than hour-long trip for emergencies only. Even Piper, Coulson’s right-hand woman, had joined them out in the desert, seemingly unruffled by their accommodations.

Truthfully, Fitz wasn’t sure much of anything ruffled Piper. She’d managed to put together everything they’d need for the expedition before they’d even arrived, and Coulson hadn’t seemed the least bit surprised by it. He also hadn’t batted an eyelash at Piper wearing what Fitz was sure was menswear, though she was clearly a woman, and Fitz had decided to follow Coulson’s example. It was almost a relief to realize his employer likely hadn’t judged Fitz by his threadbare jackets and carefully patched trousers, either.

Piper had proved herself indispensable almost immediately by providing Fitz not only with everything he’d need to begin his excavations, but also a valuable assistant who was sharp as a tack. It was too bad her background wasn’t in archeology, as it would be nice to have someone to discuss the finer points of excavations with, but he supposed he should be grateful he was here at all.

The sun was well up, lighting up the bottom of the wadi they were planning on doing some exploratory digging in today, when Coulson appeared at his shoulder. 

“What do you think, Fitz?” Coulson said the same way he did every morning. “Maybe today’s the day we’ll get lucky and find something.”

“It’s not luck that’s going to help us find anything,” Fitz said patiently. “We really should broaden our survey of the valley. There haven’t been any major discoveries near here so we’ve haven’t even got anywhere to start.” He frowned at the barren desert around them. “Honestly, I’m not sure there ever was anything out here. It’s a fair bit off the beaten path.”

“Yep,” Coulson replied, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good thing no one else has taken a crack at this area, huh?”

“Boss!” Piper was heading their way, striding quickly along the ridge they were standing on. Her expression was somewhere between concern and worry, Fitz noticed with alarm, turning to check on their camp. Nothing seemed to be on fire or in danger of being flattened by a sudden sandstorm, but he couldn’t imagine what else might cause Piper’s near-panic.

Coulson looked surprised as well. “Piper?”

“There’s another excavation team in the valley. They must have arrived sometime yesterday.”

“Here?” Coulson repeated, his eyes widening.

“Over that hill.” Piper pointed and Fitz shaded his eyes, peering in that direction.

“Where the valley ends?” Fitz asked, frowning.

“Go get Hunter,” Coulson said. “Tell him I’ve got a recon job for him. And we’re going to need to get a message to Mack.” Piper nodded and headed back down to the tents.

Fitz turned to Coulson. “Sir, what-”

“Nothing to worry about,” Coulson said, shooting Fitz a fleeting smile. “Just checking up on the competition. Should we go take a closer look at the place you were surveying yesterday?”

“Sure,” Fitz said cautiously. “I’ll just get my hat.”

He headed down the ridge toward their camp, mulling over the possibilities for Coulson’s obvious attempts at secrecy. The idea of having one’s name attached to a glorious find like Howard Carter and Lord Carnarvon’s was a prize that sent many men out into the desert. The only flaw in that thinking was Coulson’s reluctance to talk about what he was looking for so that Fitz could better hone his search. Unless Coulson didn’t know, either.

Frowning, Fitz ducked into his tent and retrieved his hat, abandoning his empty cup on the rickety desk Piper had provided him. Whatever it was they were searching for, he was starting to get an uneasy feeling that none of them were quite prepared for it.

***

Jemma drove a final marker into the ground, checking to make sure it lined up precisely with the others, making a large, neat square. This area seemed to be the closest to the red dot circled on May’s map, though so far the layers of sand and dirt they’d overturned hadn’t hinted at any hidden treasures. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too hot to continue their excavation this afternoon.

“Incoming,” May said, startling Jemma out of her contemplation. Jerking her head up, Jemma frowned at the figures coming over a distant hill before May grasped her arm and steered her back toward their camp.

Bobbi was standing in front of her tent, her arms crossed as she watched the people heading in their direction. “Are you sure we can trust him?” Bobbi asked.

“Andrew did,” May said.

Daisy emerged from the mess tent carrying a tin cup. “Does that mean we have to be nice?”

The corners of May’s mouth turned upward slightly. “Not necessarily.”

Jemma glanced at the three of them, puzzled. “You know these people?”

“May knows one of them. He was a friend of Andrew’s during the war.” Bobbi said. She must have caught Jemma’s confused look, because she added, “The clerks at the hotels in Luxor are huge gossips.”

“Which is why we didn’t stay there,” Jemma said, realization dawning. She’d wondered why May had hustled them almost directly from the train out into the middle of the desert. Bobbi had been the only one to venture into Luxor, though Jemma would have loved to see some of the ruins. “But why are they out here?”

“I’m hoping we’re about to find out,” May said.

Jemma watched curiously as the people drew closer. Their eyes were all shaded by their hats, but she could see that there were three men and a woman, all dressed in the requisite light colors required to work in this heat.

The man in the lead took off his hat as he approached, revealing a mild, kind face with lines etched around his eyes. One of the other men behind him fumbled with his hat, and Jemma watched in amusement as he nearly dropped it before tucking it under his arm and staring uncomfortably at the ground. He was younger, probably close to her age, and his hair was an unruly mass of brown curls. A bit of stubble covered his jaw, and she rather liked the effect, though her mother always said it made a man look unkempt.

The older man squinted at them before a smile crossed his face. “Melinda May,” he said. “It’s nice to see you, even when it’s unexpected.”

“Phil,” May acknowledged, dipping her chin. “I’m glad to hear it. What-”

“Hunter?” Bobbi asked, sounding shocked. Everyone turned to stare as she put her hands on her hips. “Is this where you’ve been hiding?”

“Bloody hell.” The man still wearing his hat yanked it off his head and scowled in Bobbi’s direction. He had close-cropped hair and it looked like his face hadn’t seen a razor in months. “I wasn’t hiding, woman! You’re the one who kicked me out, remember?”

“For one night, you idiot! That was almost three months ago!”

“Uh, Hunter?” Phil lifted his eyebrows. “You want to introduce us?”

Hunter massaged one temple. “Not particularly, but sure. Bobbi, this is Phil Coulson, my boss. Coulson, Bobbi. She’s, uh, my wife. And I haven’t got a clue as to what she’s doing here.”

Phil’s eyebrows shot into his hairline, and the young man Jemma was watching from under her lashes actually did drop his hat this time. She stifled a laugh as he scrambled to retrieve it, and he looked up just in time to catch her watching him. She held her breath as they locked eyes before he glanced away, his cheeks even pinker than they’d been a moment before.

“When the hell did you get married?” Phil exclaimed.

“Look,” Hunter said. “It’s not my fault. You know how much I enjoy a good ale, and Scotland’s marriage requirements are surprisingly lax.”

Jemma went entirely still at the mention of Scotland, her eyes darting back to the one man that hadn’t yet been introduced. Oh. Oh no, it couldn’t be. Surely it would be entirely too great a coincidence that they _all_ might know one another.  

“You were perfectly sober when you proposed, and you know it!” Bobbi retorted. She grabbed Hunter’s arm and he glanced at Coulson helplessly before Bobbi dragged him away from the group, their voices fading into the distance.

Phil sighed. “Well, apparently it’s a day for surprises. You want to tell me what you’re doing out here, May?”

“Looks like the same as you,” May said. “Piper, it’s nice to see you again.” The woman behind Phil lifted a hand, smiling.

“I have no idea how you found this place, but I can assure you we’ve got it under control. This is Fitz,” Phil said, gesturing. “Our archeologist. He’s one of the best.”

Fitz shifted, looking uncomfortable, and rubbed the back of his neck while nodding in their direction.

Jemma’s fists curled into the fabric of her trousers and she sincerely hoped the squeaking noise she’d just made hadn’t been loud enough for Fitz to hear. Daisy looked over at her curiously, but Jemma couldn’t tear her eyes away from the man who’d been writing her letters for the past few months. She found herself even more upset about losing his friendship now that she had a face to go with the name.

Before, when she’d imagined arguing companionably about the usefulness of studying burial techniques with Fitz over a cup of tea, he’d just been a blurry outline of a man, but now that image was clear as a bell, complete with sunlight bringing out the strands gold in his hair.

Good lord, what was wrong with her? Jemma tugged on the collar of her blouse, feeling flushed and overheated, her mind racing as she frantically tried to come up with a reason to excuse herself so she wouldn’t have to see Fitz’s disappointment when he discovered who she was.  

“Well, we’ve got our own Egyptologist,” May said, her hands on her hips. “And Jemma Simmons came highly recommended by the University College of London.”

Jemma watched, stricken, as Fitz’s brow furrowed and he mouthed her name to himself before his eyes widened and he turned toward her. Jemma lifted her chin as he stared, determined not to let her anxiety show. Intellect was nothing to be ashamed of, after all, no matter her sex.

“That’s swell, May, but it still doesn’t explain why you-”

“J.A. Simmons?” Fitz blurted out, interrupting Phil. “I mean…uh…”

“Yes,” Jemma said crisply. “That’s me. Jemma Anne Simmons.”

Fitz blinked at her before reaching up to run a hand through his hair. He’d dropped his hat again but hadn’t seemed to notice yet. “Really? But you’re…you’re a girl.” 

Daisy rolled her eyes and let out a long sigh.

Jemma’s heart sank, and she lowered her gaze to the sand under her feet. Frustrated tears welled up, pressing at the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. He was just as bad as the others, of course, even though she’d badly wanted to believe he wouldn’t be. After all, hadn’t she proved that she shared his love of ancient Egypt and the depth of her knowledge? But apparently, that didn’t matter, since she wasn’t a man.

Well then, she’d just have to prove what an amazing archeologist she was, even if she was a girl.

Taking a breath, Jemma lifted her head and glared defiantly at Fitz while he stared, his eyes an unfairly attractive shade of blue in the bright sunlight. He looked flummoxed, and she could only imagine he was regretting writing those long letters that had sustained her all through the spring and summer.

She’d known it wouldn’t last forever, but Jemma wished, more than anything, that she could have had a least been able to write to him about this, sharing the excitement of their very first season in Egypt. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” she said crisply, stuffing down her hurt.

Obviously, it just wasn’t meant to be.

 


	4. Wadi

Simmons was a girl.

Fitz sat down heavily on the rickety chair by his desk, tugging on his boots. The sky was still mostly grey outside, with just a hint of sunrise on the horizon.

And not just any girl, but a fiery siren who seemed to have sprung fully formed out of his wildest dreams. She was terrifyingly lovely, with dark hair and flashing eyes and the quickest mind of anyone he’d known.

All those rambling letters he’d sent, and never once had he ever even _considered_ Simmons was a girl. He supposed he should have had some inkling, but he’d never really corresponded regularly with anyone before, aside from his mother, and Simmons’ letters were always brimming with such interesting archeological insights he hadn’t even questioned her avoidance of anything more personal.

He’d barely slept last night, trying to figure out how to apologize for being such a dull clod when, if he’d known…well, he probably wouldn’t have had the nerve to write to her at all. Fitz had consoled himself with the fact that at least she’d been less bored by his lectures about ancient Egyptian building methods than most woman he’d ever tried and failed to chat up since she shared a passion for archeology, but then he’d gone and made a fool of himself yesterday, his tongue completely failing him when she was standing there in front of him. 

Coulson had argued with May for most of the afternoon while Fitz had perched uncomfortably on a stool nearby, nursing a lukewarm cup of tea and trying to ignore his growling stomach. Simmons had gone off almost immediately with Daisy and Piper, and no matter how hard he’d wished for her to reappear once he’d thought of a thousand more appropriate ways to greet the person he’d been corresponding with for months, she hadn’t come back again.

When it was clear May wasn’t going to abandon her endeavor—which, really, even Fitz could tell was a fruitless quest from the start—Coulson had stood and clapped his hat back on his head, scowling, before rounding up Piper so they could head back to camp. Hunter hadn’t turned up until after dark, but his demeanor was as prickly as Coulson’s, and Fitz had finally escaped to his tent.

Yawning, Fitz scrubbed a hand through his hair, making a face when his fingers got stuck. He must look a fright, out here for weeks without shaving or otherwise making himself presentable. It was a wonder Simmons hadn’t run screaming in the other direction. Digging through his trunk, he unearthed a comb and spent several excruciating minutes trying to drag it through his hair before realizing he wasn’t likely to make a better impression on Simmons no matter what he did and giving up.

Making sure his shirt was at least fresh, Fitz stepped out to find the sun was already above the horizon and Coulson was sitting by the fire with a tin cup in his hand. Fitz wrinkled his nose. Damn, he’d missed his window for making tea, but he had wanted to talk to Coulson, so he supposed he could endure a cup of American coffee.

“Morning,” Fitz said, trying to gauge Coulson’s mood.

“Morning, Fitz.” Coulson was staring into his cup, contemplating the liquid inside.

Fitz poured himself some coffee and settled into a chair beside Coulson, looking out over the valley. He wondered if everyone in the other camp was up yet and if Simmons was normally an early riser. He also found himself wanting to know how she took her tea in the morning, and what she looked like when she first woke up, and what she liked to wear to bed, and a thousand other things that he had no business thinking about.

Clearing his throat, Fitz tried to focus on the task at hand. “Do you think they’re looking for the same thing we are?”

“Probably, though I wish they weren’t. We have to find it first.”

Excellent, just the opening Fitz was looking for. “You don’t suppose it might be easier to just…combine forces?” he offered cautiously. He took a sip of coffee and repressed a shudder at the bitterness.

Coulson lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t think that would be the best idea.”

Fitz frowned. “But you and May seemed like old friends.” At least when they weren’t arguing. “And Simmons is one of the best Egyptologists I know, we could use someone with her expertise.”

Coulson’s other eyebrow lifted. “So, you do know her? I couldn’t tell yesterday.”

“Well, erm…” Fitz scrubbed a hand through his hair, messing up any semblance of order he’d managed to put it in. “Only by reputation, and, you know, our correspondence. Just like any other colleague, really,” he said quickly. 

“I see,” Coulson said, his mouth turning up in a small smile. “Look, Fitz, I’m not going to lie to you, I’d really prefer they not get involved. The more people there are out here, the more attention we’ll draw, which is the last thing I want, but if you think she’ll consult with you, go ahead and talk to Simmons. Maybe if you let her know we’ve got everything under control, she’ll persuade May to move on. Beyond that, we’re just going to have to hope they’ll give up eventually.”

“That, uh, doesn’t seem very likely.”

“I’m aware,” Coulson said wryly. “But I haven’t finished my first cup of coffee yet, Fitz, let me have my delusions.”

“Yes, sir,” Fitz said, hiding a smile behind his mug. His heart soared despite the daunting task he’d just set for himself.

Now, all he had to do was find Simmons. And hope she’d give him the time of day.

***

Jemma closed her eyes, trying to picture the map May had hidden away and the exact position of the red dot. The problem was it could encompass this entire valley, and beyond if they were off by a few kilometers. She was fairly certain they were in the right place, but honestly, why even bother to make a map without a proper legend and an easily discernable scale?

Sighing in irritation, Jemma opened her eyes and continued walking along the ridgeline above their camp as the morning sun rose, only to stop short, frowning as someone came into view. It didn’t look like Bobbi or Daisy or May, but she couldn’t imagine…the figure took off his hat and wiped his brow before resettling it, revealing a head full of wild curls.

Oh no. It was Fitz, and he was heading right for her.

Jemma was trying to think of some excuse to head back to camp when she stopped, angry with herself for even thinking of abandoning her duties. She had good reason to be up here, and no man was going to chase her off. Instead, she crossed her arms and waited, wondering why on earth he was even lowering himself to speak to her. No doubt he wanted to give her some long-winded lecture about how women were unsuited for the laborious work of field excavations. As though she’d never heard that before.

A tiny piece of her wished he was still just the man she’d known only through his letters; the thoughtful, self-deprecating, brilliant man who’d been so keen to share his insights, and who’d asked for hers. It hurt to think she’d never again be able to look at all his careful sketches with the joy she’d had before they’d met.

Fitz halted a few feet from her, slightly out of breath. Giving her a tentative smile, he took off his hat and fiddled with it while she waited for him to speak, her curiosity growing. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost think he was nervous, but that couldn’t be right.

“I, ah,” Fitz began, “wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding. Not knowing you were a girl, I mean. And my behavior yesterday. You just surprised me, is all. Haven’t met many women archeologists.”

His cheeks were pink again, which she found irritatingly endearing, but Jemma knew how this speech went. Every time she’d gone to apply for a position in an expedition she’d heard some version of it. How a woman would only slow a dig down, expect too much coddling, and, most importantly, take a job meant for a more-deserving man.

“I really appreciated all the letters,” Fitz continued. Jemma was startled at the change of subject, warily uncrossing her arms and trying to figure out where he was going with this. “They were very helpful. Might not have gotten the job with Coulson without knowing all those things you wrote about, actually, so thanks for that.”

Jemma blinked at him in confusion. “You’re welcome?” she replied cautiously.

Fitz gave her a grin that involved his whole face, and Jemma couldn’t resist smiling back, even though she’d promised herself she was going to be polite to him if necessary, but definitely not friendly.

“So.” Fitz popped his hat back on. “This is rather exciting, isn’t it? Did you just arrive? Were you in Luxor? Did you see Karnak?” His eyes followed the ridgeline she’d been walking. “This place is a bit more remote than I was expecting, honestly, not sure we’re going to find anything out here. What do you think?” He turned towards her, his hands on his hips and his expression open and warm.

Jemma opened her mouth and then closed it again, unsure of what to say. This was wholly unexpected. First, he’d apologized, then thanked her, and now he was asking for her opinion?

“I, um,” Jemma said, trying to gather her thoughts. “I didn’t get into Luxor, actually. Were you at Karnak?”

Fitz’s eyes lit up. “It was absolutely spectacular,” he said. “You should see the size of the stones they used for the pillars, just a marvel of ancient engineering, though of course, I imagine you’d be more interested in the reliefs. They were quite well preserved. You could probably spend days examining those alone.”

A vision of strolling arm in arm with Fitz through a forest of carved stone pillars under a bright blue sky flitted through Jemma’s mind before she could stop it. “It sounds wonderful,” she managed.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see it. We should go before the end of the season,” he said enthusiastically as his face grew even pinker. Jemma felt her own face flushing. “If you wanted to, I mean,” he added quickly. “Of course, you don’t have to go with me or…”

“No, that sounds lovely,” Jemma interrupted, wincing at how eager she sounded. For goodness sake, he was just a man. She’d been around plenty of those without her knees turning to jelly. She really needed to get ahold of herself and stop behaving like a blushing schoolgirl who’d never been kissed. Though really, her experiences in that area had left her rather doubtful as to why anyone would bother with kissing when they could be engaged in more intellectual pursuits. 

Fitz’s grin went from bright to practically blinding and Jemma’s gaze fixed on his mouth. She fiddled with the top button of her blouse and wondered if undoing it would make her feel any cooler. Glancing up at the cloudless sky, she rather doubted it, but it wasn’t as though her mother was there to be scandalized. Giving in, she unfastened the button and tugged on her collar, feeling less confined, at least. She thought she heard Fitz make a strange noise, but when she looked over, he was gazing at one end of the valley, his eyes shadowed by his hat. “

“You, uh, you were looking for a site up here?” Jemma was trying to think of how to answer without giving too much away or telling him about the map, when Fitz frowned slightly. “Does seem the most likely area, doesn’t it? Out where we’re excavating isn’t very promising at all. I’ve told Coulson we should widen our search, but he hasn’t agreed so far.”

“I…yes, it seemed the logical place, based on the other sites I’ve studied.” She braced for him to say something about her lack of field experience, though she knew he wasn’t much further ahead of her in that area, but instead, Fitz nodded thoughtfully.

“Sheltered, easily identifiable geographical features, far enough off the beaten path to be undisturbed. I think you’re right.”

“You do?”

Fitz turned toward her, his brow furrowing. “Why wouldn’t I? Should we go take a closer look?” His expression turned sheepish. “Uh, if you don’t mind the company, of course.”

“No,” Jemma said, possibly a little too quickly. “I don’t mind.”

His lips curved upward again, and her breath caught in her throat as she imagined them pressed against her own. Perhaps she’d drawn hasty conclusions on the act of kissing if just thinking about it was making her heart race. Or maybe she’d been standing in the sun too long.

Shaking her head to clear it, Jemma followed Fitz along the ridge toward the spot they’d decided on. She had to be mindful of her footing, but she couldn’t resist peeking at him from under the edge of her hat as he picked his way down the hill, turning occasionally to make sure she was still behind him.

When they were nearly at the bottom, he offered her a hand over a tricky spot and she hesitated for only a moment before taking it. His palm was warm, and his fingers calloused, and a tingle raced up Jemma’s arm at the contact. This close to him, the fit and slightly frayed collar of his shirt betrayed its age, but she did appreciate the way it stretched tightly across his shoulders. He’d clearly been in the thick of his excavations, not lording over everyone else like some of the archeologists she’d met.

She looked up as she found solid ground again and found herself inches from his face. It really wasn’t fair how distractingly blue his eyes were. 

“Thank you,” Jemma mumbled, releasing his hand and taking a step back, feeling a bit off kilter, like she was back on the ship instead of the middle of the desert.

Fitz reached up to adjust his hat, turning away from her. “Course,” he said, his voice a bit raspy. He stopped in his tracks a moment later, and Jemma nearly ran into the back of him. “Simmons,” he said as she peered around him. “Tell me you see that.”

Jemma frowned and stepped up next to him, taking off her hat and crouching down, tilting her head to one side before making a decision. “An unusually straight line that doesn’t fit into all the other geographical features?” she asked before standing. When she turned toward him, she could see the excitement beginning to bubble up inside of her reflected on his face. “I see it, Fitz.”

***

Things were going so well, Fitz was half-expecting to wake up at any moment.

First, he’d managed to speak to Simmons without entirely making a fool of himself, and then, once he’d realized what she was doing up on the ridge in the first place, she’d allowed him to tag along even though, technically, he supposed they were rivals. Well, their patrons were competing with one another, but he was hoping Simmons might consider him a partner, rather than a rival. After all, if they were all looking for the same thing, it cost nothing to share the credit of a discovery.

The fact that she’d also agreed to accompany him to view Karnak had stunned him, as had her apparent enthusiasm for his company. He couldn’t wait to see her face the first time she saw the carvings in person, so different than the two-dimensional sketches they’d studied.

Every time he looked at Simmons, he noticed something that made her even more beautiful than she’d been the moment before. She’d undone a button earlier, as the sun heated the air around them, and he’d hardly been able to take his eyes off the hollow of her throat since she’d exposed it. He’d also barely kept himself from imagining her continuing to undo the buttons of her shirt, and he’d had to turn away from her to regain his equilibrium before he could speak again.

Simmons’ confirmation of the anomalous straight line he’d spotted made his pulse race just like it had when she’d had taken his hand earlier. Her fingers were long and slender, as lovely as the rest of her, and had fit perfectly in his palm.

Fitz removed his hat, grateful for the shade thrown by the cliff beside them, and rubbed at the back of his neck before crouching down like Simmons had done and squinting at the barely visible line at the base of the cliff beside them. It would be a perfect place to hide something no one wanted found.

“Could it have been a wall, Fitz?” Simmons asked, excitement coloring her voice. “Perhaps a shelter of some kind?”

“Or a fortification,” he said, standing again. “Whatever it was, if anything, we won’t know until we take a closer look.” He looked over at her, knowing he was grinning like a fool, but unable to tamp down on the excitement of both having her beside him and the possibility that they’d found something. Her broad smile matched his own.

“Where should we start?”

“Well…” Fitz dug through his pockets for his notebook, frowning when he couldn’t find his pencil. A moment later, the stub of a pencil appeared under his nose. He looked up, taking it gratefully, as Simmons beamed down at him.

“I’ll take the measurements while you sketch, shall I?” she asked, dropping her hat to the ground beside him. Her hair was coming out of the knot she had it in, strands framing her face, and his fingers itched to touch them, to touch her.

Something bloomed in his chest. He’d known they’d work well together, but it was already going better than he’d ever imagined. He watched Simmons walk toward the cliff face and begin her measurements, her eyes alight with happiness, and decided that accepting Coulson’s offer to come to Egypt was the best decision he’d ever made.

Simmons called out the first number, startling Fitz out of his reverie, and he began to sketch, noting the numbers she provided in between her steady stream of observations about soil composition, drainage, and whatever else seemed to cross her mind at any given moment.

He quickly lost himself in their work, completing a rough sketch of the whole area before moving closer and completing a more intricate one of the line that’d first drawn their attention. Simmons had dug a few exploratory, shallow holes that’d only piqued their interest while they argued good-naturedly about what could have stood here over a millennia ago.

“Fitz,” Simmons said in the fondly exasperated tone he was coming to enjoy. “We can’t possibly know it’s approximate age until we’ve done more excavating.”

“Exactly,” he replied triumphantly. “So we can’t rule out the fact that this could be at least as old as the Great Pyramid.”

Simmons rolled her eyes. “That’s a thousand years before there was a temple at Luxor, Fitz, it wouldn’t make any sense to build something way out here.”

“I just…” Fitz trailed off at the sound of distant shouting. Simmons frowned over his shoulder.

“I think your friend is looking for you,” she said. He hoped he wasn’t imagining the disappointment in her voice.

Turning, Fitz caught sight of Hunter sliding haphazardly down the hill in their direction. “Mate!” Hunter called as he made it to the bottom and dusted off his trousers. “Have you been here the whole time? Half the camp is looking for you two.”

“I told May what my plans were this morning,” Simmons said, crossing her arms.

“It’s well past morning,” Hunter said, sounding amused by her irritation.

“Is it?” Fitz squinted at the sky. “We must have lost track of time.”

Hunter let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so. Going to introduce me?”

“I’m Jemma Simmons,” Simmons replied, dipping her chin.

“She’s an Egyptologist,” Fitz added.

Hunter’s brow furrowed. “Simmons, you said? Sounds vaguely familiar. Didn’t you mention knowing a bloke named…”

“That’s also me,” Simmons admitted. Hunter lifted his eyebrows and Simmons’ cheeks reddened. “I, um, might have forgotten to mention a few things in my letters.”

“I’d say so,” Hunter said. “Look, do you mind if I borrow Fitz here for a minute?”

Fitz was about to object when Hunter grabbed his arm and hauled him off a little way from Simmons. He could just see her over Hunter’s shoulder, flipping through the sketches he’d done while making notes in her own journal. “What do you want, Hunter? I think we’re actually onto something here, so if you don’t mind…”

“What are you doing?” Hunter whispered harshly.

“Uh, working on finding whatever it is Coulson wants us to find?”

Hunter massaged his temple with one hand. “Us? Fitz, there’s no us. You can’t involve Simmons in this.”

“She already is!” Fitz hissed. “And so is the rest of her team. Besides, Coulson knows I’m consulting with her.”

“Consulting is sitting down over a cuppa and having a chat, not wandering off with some chippy and making eyes at her over a heap of rubble.”

“Don’t call her that,” Fitz growled.

“Oh no,” Hunter groaned. “She’s already got you wrapped around her finger.”

Fitz decided not to dignify that with a response. “Look, we might have found something, so-”

“Great,” Hunter gestured at the hill beside them. “Let’s go tell Coulson.” Fitz’s eyes strayed to Simmons again, and he caught her gazing curiously in their direction, her chin propped on her hand. “Fitz.” Hunter waved a hand in front of his face. “Focus, man. She’s just a girl. There are millions of them in the world.”

Fitz scowled at Hunter, hoping Simmons hadn’t overheard him. “There are no other girls like her, you wanker.”

“Oh christ,” Hunter sighed. “It’s worse than I thought. Look, here’s what you do: just shag her and get it out of your system, otherwise you’re going to wake up ten years from now with a wife you can’t seem to please, stuck at a desk job, and no idea how you ended up in hell.”

Fitz’s mouth dropped open and he was sure his face was bright red. “What? No! That’s not…we’re just working together, there’s none of that going on.” Except now that Hunter had mentioned it, Fitz couldn’t shake the image of waking up next to Simmons ten years from now, the desert sun catching in her hair. It was decidedly un-hell like.

Hunter rolled his eyes. “You’re not supposed to be working with her, Fitz. That’s the point. Now, Coulson will have my head if I don’t bring you back. You can pick up a rubber and sneak into her tent later, alright?”

“Would you stop!” Fitz hissed through clenched teeth.

“Hey, Simmons,” Hunter called, ignoring him. “I’m afraid we need Fitz back at camp, if you can spare him.”

“Oh.” Simmons stood, a notebook in each hand. “Are you sure? We were just starting to…”

“Sorry, the boss is looking for him.” Hunter shrugged and Fitz glared at him for a moment before stomping back toward Simmons. She handed him his notebook, their fingers brushing, and his anger evaporated along with whatever he was going to say.

“Maybe another time?” she asked softly.

Fitz nodded, wishing he didn’t have to leave in the first place. “Another time,” he echoed.

“Good.” Simmons gave him a smile that made his heart do a somersault in his chest.

“Let’s go!” Hunter yelled, already halfway up to the top of the ridge.

“Here.” Fitz opened his notebook, flipping through the pages, and Simmons handed him the pencil before he’d even asked for it. “In case I get tied up.” He scribbled her name at the top of his first sketch, then tore it out along with the subsequent pages of the measurements they’d recorded.

He heard her stifle a gasp. “Oh no, Fitz, you shouldn’t-”

Looking up, he caught her gaze and tried to smile, hoping Hunter was wrong about Coulson letting him work with Simmons. “Just in case.” He pressed the pages into her hands, his fingertips grazing the soft skin of her wrists, and turned before he could make a bigger fool of himself.

“Fitz,” she called a moment later. He whirled around, a lump in his throat, to find her hurrying towards him. “Your hat.” She settled it on his head, standing so close he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out to touch her. She was clutching the pages he’d given her against her chest and he had never been so jealous of anything before this moment. “See you soon.”

“Soon,” he promised.

***

Jemma watched Fitz climb up to the top of the ridge and follow along behind Hunter back toward their camp, his hands gesturing wildly enough that she could tell he was agitated about something. She wondered what they’d been whispering about earlier.

Glancing up at the sky, Jemma realized she should probably head back to camp herself. It was nearly time for supper. Reluctantly, she gathered all her things and carefully tucked the sketches and notes Fitz had given her into the front of her notebook. Pausing, she touched the top of the page where he’d written her name, glad no one was there to see her smiling like a smitten fool.

He hadn’t written Simmons, though he’d called her that all day. Instead, ‘Jemma’ was scrawled across the paper in his familiar handwriting. It was the first time he’d used her given name, and it made her heart glow.

Perhaps his letters would still be wonderful to read after all.

 


	5. Excavation

“Where’s this place again?” Daisy said, struggling to keep up with Jemma.

They were both weighted down with supplies since Jemma had kept thinking of more things she and Fitz could use to explore the site they’d found yesterday. It was quite exciting to think they might have actually discovered something. She wondered if their names would be listed together, should it turn out to be of some significance. Simmons and Fitz had a nice ring to it.

“We’re almost there,” Jemma said. She’d blamed her need for an early start this morning, which Daisy had begrudgingly agreed to, on wanting to get back to her new excavation as soon as possible, but Jemma’s desire to see Fitz again was nearly as strong.

She knew it was silly to think he’d arrive before the sun was fully over the horizon, but she was still disappointed when the base of the cliff came into view and he wasn’t there. Sighing, she stopped to wait for Daisy to catch up with her.

“How did you even find this place?” Daisy asked breathlessly. “It’s in the middle of nowhere.”

“Fitz and I agreed it was a promising area,” Jemma said absently, carefully beginning her descent down the hill.

“Fitz, sure. That dreamboat you hated the day before yesterday.”

“I didn’t hate him! I just…might have jumped to some unflattering conclusions before we had a chance to really talk, that’s all. He’s quite accomplished. And I certainly never implied he was a dreamboat. That’s preposterous.”

Daisy gave a snort. “We’ve been awake for an hour and that’s the twentieth time you’ve mentioned him. You completely think he’s a dreamboat.”

Jemma decided to concentrate on her footing rather than coming up with a retort since she suspected anything she said would just fuel Daisy’s delusions. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather help Bobbi and May at the main site? Your drawing skills will be missed if they find anything.”

“Why, is Fitz supposed to meet you here later?” Daisy teased as she stumbled to a halt at the bottom of the hill and divested herself of the pack she was carrying, dropping it to the ground. “My drawing skills are part of why I’m out here, remember? May wants to see if we can figure out where this might be in relation to the map, and I can make some sketches for you.”

Jemma carefully set her pack down in the shadow of the cliff and removed her hat. She shot Daisy a guilty look and pulled out her journal. “Um, well, I already have some sketches, actually.” Daisy put her hands on her hips and lifted her eyebrows. “Fitz drew them,” Jemma mumbled.

Letting out a laugh, Daisy settled on the ground and dug through her pack, yanking out her sketchpad and pencils along with a thermos of coffee. “Of course he did. Now I’m definitely not going anywhere. I have got to properly introduce myself to the guy who can make you blush over a bunch of rock drawings.”

“It’s very warm!”

“The sun’s barely up and I’m still wearing a sweater. Just admit you think he’s the bee’s knees.”

“He is a talented archeologist,” Jemma said, lifting her chin. “And quite intelligent. Of course I find that admirable.”

“Sure, plus you want him to be your fella.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “He’s a colleague. Our work is more important than that sort of nonsense.”

Giving Jemma a smug smile, Daisy sipped her coffee. “I’m so going to remind you later that you said that.”

***

Fitz was fully dressed, hat in hand, and finishing his second cup of tea by the time the sun broke over the horizon that morning. His reprimand from Coulson last night had been much milder than what Hunter had led him to believe was coming though it didn’t make Fitz feel any less guilty. He’d tried to explain about the site he and Simmons had found, but Coulson had seemed much more interested in having Fitz recount everything Jemma had said than discussing whether they should move their excavation efforts.

Fitz had the feeling that he was, once again, completely missing something, but having to recall the details of every moment he’d spent with Jemma wasn’t really a hardship, so he’d humored his patron.

After he’d retired to his tent, though, he’d had a devil of a time getting to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he could see Jemma smiling at him, her eyes liquid gold in the sunlight and her blouse unbuttoned just enough to expose the creamy curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. He wanted to bury his face there and lick the salt off her skin.

Working beside her had been everything he’d dreamed and more. He supposed others might find it strange how easily he and Jemma had fallen into sync, but after months of exchanging letters, even before he’d known she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, Fitz had recognized their complementary skill sets. And now that he’d had the pleasure of meeting her, it was like she’d filled a space in his life he’d only just noticed was horrifyingly empty.

“Fitz, good, I wanted to talk to you,” Coulson said, yawning. He grabbed the kettle and began to dump ground coffee into it. 

Fidgeting nervously with his hat, Fitz braced himself for Coulson to forbid him from seeking any more outside assistance, and mentally organized his counter-arguments. Even discounting the allure of working side by side with Simmons, which he doubted would sway Coulson, there was still a great deal to recommend the new site they’d discovered. It was certainly more promising than any of the other areas he’d explored thus far.

“I’ve got to take care of some things in Luxor,” Coulson continued, setting the kettle to heat. “Do you need anything?”

“Uh, no?” Fitz said, surprised. 

“Great.” Coulson leaned back in his chair and eyed Fitz. “You’re sure your Egyptologist friend didn’t say anything about how they ended up on a dig in our valley?”

“Jemma?” Fitz asked. “No, she didn’t say. But we got a bit caught up exploring the new site.”

The edge of Coulson’s mouth lifted in a small smile. “I’m sure you did.”

“Uh, speaking of…”

“Fitz.” Coulson let out a sigh. “As much as I’d like to find what we’re looking for, we can’t involve May’s team.” He clapped Fitz on the shoulder as he stood to check on the coffee, pouring some into a tin cup and inhaling the steam. He made a satisfied noise and lifted the cup. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks,” Fitz said glumly. He plopped down in a chair next to Coulson and waited for the others to wake up, watching his patron sip his coffee as the sun crested the horizon.

Fitz tried out a dozen different conversational openings in his head, working out how to argue his case, when he suddenly realized that Coulson, for all his talk about not involving Jemma, hadn’t actually told Fitz he couldn’t go to the new site.

And since Jemma hadn’t let him know what her plans were, and Fitz had left yesterday without knowing when he’d be back, he could honestly say neither of them was expecting the other to turn up today—not that he thought anything would keep her away.

All he had to do was make sure Piper was willing to work their current, disappointingly barren excavation, and he’d be free to head over to the new one. It was his duty as the head archeologist to at least eliminate possible sites, after all, and if Jemma happened to be there, well, that would just be a happy coincidence.

God, he hoped Jemma would be there.

Feeling much better now that he’d figured things out, Fitz accepted a cup of terrible American coffee the next time it was offered and then watched in amusement as a disheveled Hunter stumbled into camp, looking surprised to see them.

“What the hell are you all doing up so damnably early?” Hunter asked.

“Waiting for you,” Coulson said cheerfully. “You can tell me a more about your lovely wife on the way.”

“We’re getting a divorce,” Hunter said, scowling. “I think. Wait, where are we going?”

With a quick wave in Fitz’s direction, Coulson steered Hunter toward where the motorcar was parked. It was a bit of a hike, but frankly, Fitz had been surprised they’d been able to drive as close to the camp as they had. He waited for them disappear over a ridge before dumping out the remainder of his coffee and clapping his hat on his head.  

He had a girl to see.

***

“Would you take a look at this?” Jemma said to Daisy, frowning into the shallow trench she’d dug. If Fitz didn’t make it today, perhaps she could invite him to the camp that evening so they could discuss her findings. She was sure he’d have some brilliant insights. She was more disappointed than she wanted to admit that he hadn’t turned up yet this morning.

“Is it another rock?” Daisy asked, propping her sketchpad against one knee. “Because I hate to tell you this, but I used up all my excitement on the last one you showed me.”

Jemma looked up. “I think it might be a bit of pottery, actually.” Something up on the ridgeline caught her attention, and she sat back on her heels, shading her eyes.

“Oh, pottery. Sure, that’s…almost not a rock. Do you need me to-”

“Fitz,” Jemma breathed, climbing to her feet and dusting off her trousers.

“Ok, well, I can’t be Fitz,” Daisy said, sounding amused.

“No,” Jemma said, unable to keep from smiling. “It’s Fitz.”

“Finally!” Daisy said turning to look as Fitz started down the hill in their direction. He half-slid down the embankment, sending clouds of dust into the air, and he nearly lost his hat at one point, but he made it to the bottom in record time. Jemma eagerly returned his wave as he trotted in their direction.

“Jemma!” he said. “You’re here.” He dropped his hat and a bag he’d been carrying next to Daisy and came to a halt in front of Jemma, his cheeks flushed and his unruly curls sticking up in every direction.

Jemma felt her own cheeks growing warm as she beamed at him. “Of course I’m here. I was hoping you’d turn up.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be.”

Jemma clasped her hands in front of her to keep from nervously checking her hair, pleased that he was as excited about their possible find as she was. Daisy cleared her throat loud enough to make Jemma jump. “Oh, um, you remember Daisy?” Jemma said gesturing at her friend.

Fitz frowned and glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry, didn’t see you there. I don’t think we were properly introduced. I’m Fitz.”

“Oh, I know,” Daisy said, grinning. “Jemma’s been talking about-”

“Our site!” Jemma interrupted. “I’ve found clear indications that there was something here, though I’ve yet to figure out what, exactly.”

“You found something?” Fitz asked, leaning forward until his face was mere inches from hers. Jemma almost lost her train of thought as he gazed at her, his eyes a deep blue in the shadow cast by the cliff beside them.

“Pottery shards,” she said breathlessly. “Perhaps.”

Jemma watched the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen break across Fitz’s face. “You were right about this place,” he said.

Jemma wanted to cry at his generosity, but it wasn’t right to exclude his contributions if they had found something. “We both were,” she said. “Come have a look.”

Fitz offered her his arm like he was escorting her to dinner instead of across the dirt and sand at the bottom of a wadi, and Jemma took it, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. A shiver ran up her spine as their shoulders brushed against one another. “Tell me everything I missed.”

***

“Oh, Fitz, look!” Jemma exclaimed, peering into the trench they’d slowly been deepening. “It’s another bit of stone.”

Their midday meal had been a hurried affair, and Fitz was grateful that Jemma and Daisy hadn’t seemed to mind sharing with him since he’d neglected to bring anything for himself. Jemma had given him half her sandwich, which he decided was the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten, and he’d attempted to answer Daisy’s rapid-fire questions about his personal life. He had no idea what the gender of his classmates or his closest friends had to do with the excavation, but she’d seemed pleased with his stumbling answers.

Americans, Fitz decided, took an interest in the oddest things.

Jemma had even shared her tea with him, and he was happy to discover that she took it with the perfect amount of milk, though it could have used more sugar.

Daisy groaned from her seat in the shade nearby. “More rocks? This entire place is filled with rocks and you’re both excited about digging them up. There really is someone for everyone.” Hoping the heat hid his blush, Fitz scooted closer to Jemma and peered down into her section of trench.

“It’s clearly been cut, Daisy, like it was once part of a building or a wall,” Jemma explained.

“Oh, sure, special rocks,” Daisy said, not sounding convinced.

Fitz frowned. “Or just bits left over from a quarry.” He poked at the stone Jemma had uncovered, trying to find the other end. Jemma, kneeling across from him, bent down far enough that her blouse gaped open and presented him with a view of her exquisite cleavage. Fitz’s mouth went dry. Averting his eyes before she caught him staring, Fitz sat back on his heels so quickly he nearly toppled over.

“Do you think it might just be a refuse site?” Jemma asked, her brow furrowing.

“Um,” Fitz stalled, hating to disappoint her, but knowing she’d be the first one to catch him out if he fibbed even a little. “It’s hard to know until we uncover more.”

Jemma gave him a smile that he felt down to his toes. “But it’s nice to know we have things to uncover, isn’t it?”

Fitz blinked at her, trying desperately not to picture peeling her blouse off and uncovering all sorts of lovely things. “I, er, yes?” he managed to reply. “Uncovering is great. Rocks! I meant uncovering rocks.”

“Uh oh,” Daisy said. “Trouble in paradise.”

Fitz jerked his head up, struggling to think of some excuse for behaving like a lech, but Daisy wasn’t looking at him. She was squinting up toward the ridge.

“Is that May?” Jemma said.

“And Coulson,” Fitz sighed. He hadn’t expected Coulson back until this evening at the earliest, but apparently, he’d been caught out. He snuck a look in Jemma’s direction and decided the few hours they’d spent together were entirely worth whatever dressing down he was about to get.

“Perhaps they’ve come to see what we’ve found!”

Jemma sounded so cheerful that, despite his own foreboding, Fitz couldn’t help but admire her tenacious optimism. Although tea preferences aside, he found everything about her admirable.

“Maybe, but May doesn’t look very happy,” Daisy said doubtfully. They all watched in silence as Coulson made it to the bottom of the hill and turned to offer a hand to May, only to have her pointedly ignore it. They both strode in the direction of the excavation site.

“Fitz!” Coulson barked, making Fitz jump slightly. “Was there something unclear about what I said to you this morning?”

Fitz winced. “Well…”

“You are stubborn as a mule, Phil Coulson,” May snapped.

“You’re calling me stubborn?”

“You heard me.” May narrowed her eyes. “You never would have kept things from Andrew.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Coulson said, his voice softening. “But things change, May, we’ve all changed. The world’s a different place than it used to be.”

“Damn right it is, and that’s why we’re staying right here until I decide otherwise.” May turned her back to him, pinning Jemma with her gaze. “Find anything interesting?”

“May-” Coulson began.

“You don’t have to stick around, Phil. Feel free to take your archeologist and go if you’re so intent on keeping secrets.”

Fitz opened his mouth to protest, but Jemma beat him to it.

“Oh, but we’ve barely begun, and it’s looking very promising,” Jemma said. “Surely Fitz’s talents would be best put to use here?”

Fitz straightened his shoulders, feeling quite chuffed by the compliment, while Coulson rubbed his temple. “Fitz, what’s your assessment?”

Jemma made an indignant noise and Fitz frowned in confusion. “What Jem-I mean, Simmons said, sir. It’s the most promising site by far.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jemma lift her chin defiantly. “There, now you’ve had a man’s opinion. Are we all out here simply to argue over territory or may we continue with our work?”

Coulson furrowed his brow. “I wasn’t…”

“If you think this is where we should concentrate our efforts, by all means,” May interrupted, gesturing at the site. “Do you have everything you need?”

Jemma nodded. “For now.”

“I knew you would be the perfect person for this job,” May told her before turning to Coulson. “We’ve got it under control here, feel free to go dig somewhere else.”

“Oh, but…” Jemma said, her fingers curling around Fitz’s forearm while he soaked in what were surely their last moments together, wishing he could think of something to say that would sway Coulson’s opinion, though he hadn’t had any luck so far.

“May,” Coulson said, his voice low and strained. “Please, I’m asking as a friend, head back to Luxor. Enjoy Egypt. Go sightseeing and cruise down the Nile but leave this to us. The last thing I want is for anyone to be hurt.”

Jemma’s grip on Fitz’s arm tightened, and he covered her hand with his own, trying to reassure her. He’d suspected that might be a concern, but this was the first time he’d heard Coulson say it out loud.

“Why, Phil? What are you looking for? What makes it so dangerous?” May asked.

“If I tell you, will you agree to leave?”

“I’m not promising anything.”

Coulson let out a heavy sigh. “Let me sort out a few things. We can talk tonight.”

“Um,” Jemma spoke up tentatively. “When you say we, do you mean your whole team?”

“You’re all welcome for dinner,” May said. “God knows what kind of gruel you’ve been feeding them over there.”

Fitz tried to hide his eagerness as Coulson glanced at him and Jemma, the corner of his mouth twitching up slightly. “Sure, why not? Even though we’ve been feeding ourselves just fine, thanks.”

“Phil, you can’t even make a decent cup of coffee.”

Fitz pressed his lips together to keep from grinning too widely. Dinner. With Jemma. A meal under the stars while the desert cooled. Jemma hugged his arm, her breasts pressing against him, and Fitz must have missed Coulson saying his name.

“Fitz,” Coulson repeated, sounding exasperated.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry to drag you away from your, uh…work, but I need to catch you up on a few things. Come on.”

Fitz reluctantly uncurled his fingers from around Jemma’s hand as she released his arm, and he felt suddenly bereft. Tonight, he reminded himself. He’d be seeing her tonight. “I guess we’ll be over later,” he said, fumbling to grab his bag and casting about for his blasted hat.

“I’m glad,” Jemma said, giving him a small smile and pulling his hat out from under the flap of his knapsack, handing it to him.

“Me too.” Fitz smiled back, and it took everything he had not to lean forward and kiss her. He had no idea how he’d survived so long without Jemma in his life and he rather fancied keeping her in it for as long as possible.

“Fitz!” Coulson yelled, already climbing out of the wadi.

“Right,” Fitz said, hastily jamming his hat on his head and trudging up the hill behind Coulson. He had to run to catch up with his patron’s long strides across the top of the ridge as the excavation site—and Jemma—quickly disappeared from view. “Sir,” Fitz began.

Coulson held up a hand and shook his head. “I know what you’re going to say, and you’re not wrong, Fitz, but there are some things I haven’t told you.”

Fitz nodded cautiously.

“Frankly, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to involve you more than necessary, but Hunter said we can trust you, so I’m going on faith here.” Coulson stopped and turned toward Fitz with a serious expression. “This isn’t something you can repeat, not even to your girl, you got it?”

“Jemma’s not my…” Fitz trailed off as Coulson lifted an eyebrow. “Got it.”

“We’re looking for something of unknown origin, following rumors that predate most books. All we know is that thousands of years ago someone thought this thing was dangerous enough to hide really, really well, but that didn’t stop people from seeking it out. We think someone very bad might have gotten wind of its possible location and that’s why we’re out here—to keep it from falling into the wrong hands.”

Fitz was silent for a moment, trying to process this. It sounded a bit preposterous, but it wasn’t any stranger than the story of a donkey discovering the unknown tomb of Kom el Shoqafa.

“So,” Fitz started cautiously. “You don’t know what we’re looking for?”

Coulson shrugged and began walking again. “The rumors are pretty vague. Something powerful, which is why people are interested in it.”

“Including you?”

Coulson shook his head. “No, we just want to keep it safe.”

“Who’s we, exactly?” Fitz asked curiously.

“The U.S. government.”

This time it was Fitz who stopped in his tracks. “You work for the American Government?” he asked, surprised.

“Secret Service,” Coulson clarified. “Hunter too, when he’s not forgetting his assignment and getting married.”

“Really?”

“He’s a surprisingly good agent. He’s the one who wanted to recruit you.”

“Why?” Fitz asked, bewildered.

“We needed someone who was smart enough to find this thing quickly, able to keep a secret, and wasn’t so ambitious he’d be disappointed to never be able to take credit for the find. You’d be surprised how many archeologists we had to disqualify based on that last one alone.”

Fitz almost laughed. This day had taken an extremely strange turn. “You overlooked the best candidate, I think.”

“Simmons?” Coulson sounded amused. “I certainly considered her, but when you’re trying to avoid drawing attention, a female archeologist isn’t the best idea. The only thing I might have overlooked was how well the two of you would work together.”

“We do,” Fitz agreed, checking the position of the sun in the sky. Damn, there was still quite a bit of time before dinner. “But the others, they don’t work for the government?” Fitz asked. His eyes widened. “Are they…is Jemma in danger?”

Coulson shook his head. “Not from May. Andrew, her late husband, he’s the one who found the map. We didn’t know at the time it was real. He must have left her the original.”

Fitz’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“Look,” Coulson said, his tone serious again. “As long as we’re out here searching for this thing, we’re all vulnerable. Mack’s trying to pin down who and where these bad guys are, but they’re slippery. All we know so far is that they’re smart, which makes them dangerous.”

“When you say this thing is powerful…”

“I mean people are willing to start another war over it powerful.”

Fitz’s stomach sank like a stone. “Then I guess we’d better find it fast.”


	6. Dinner

The walk back to camp, after Jemma and Daisy had packed up what couldn’t be left overnight at the excavation site, was almost uncomfortably silent.

Jemma wasn’t sure what was occupying the minds of the others, but she was quite stuck on the fact that Fitz would be coming to dinner. The sun was still well above the horizon, which meant she had time to clean up and make herself presentable. Fitz hadn’t seemed the least bit put off by her dirt-streaked clothes during the sweaty work of their excavation, and he obviously considered her a competent archeologist, but she rather inexplicably wanted him to see her as a woman, too.

Maybe it was a silly notion, but harmless, overall, Jemma decided. She might not be interested in settling down and chasing after domestic bliss, but if she were, she’d wish for a man like Leopold Fitz. There was nothing wrong with wanting to spend more time with him. After all, hadn’t he defended her when her opinion had been questioned? Not to mention how easy it was to work beside him. In fact, once he’d gotten over his surprise at their initial introduction, he’d rather enthusiastically embraced her abilities. He was exactly what she’d always hoped for in a colleague.

But she couldn’t stop thinking about what it might be like to kiss him.

The main obstacle in her path was that Jemma had no idea how to go about letting him know she was interested in that sort of thing. Perhaps she should have paid closer attention to how her peers comported themselves outside of University classes instead of shutting herself away in the library for days on end.

Sighing, Jemma frowned down at her blouse, one of the several rather utilitarian ones she’d brought along with her usual trousers. Her mother had insisted Jemma bring a few frocks, but Jemma had snuck most of them out of her trunk to make room for her books, thinking she certainly wouldn’t need to dress for dinner in the middle of the desert. Perhaps if she didn’t do up all her buttons, like she’d noticed Bobbi preferred, Fitz might see her as more than just a colleague.

“Phil knew Andrew?” Daisy asked quietly as they crested the last hill before reaching their camp.

May paused at the top, gazing at the distant horizon. “They were friends,” she said. “Andrew mentioned him in several of his letters. Phil came to see me after the war was over.”

“Why?” Jemma said.

May lifted one shoulder. “A lot of men didn’t make it. It was hard on the ones who did.”

“Do you think it really is dangerous for us to be out here?” Daisy asked.

“I think it’s nothing we can’t handle,” May said firmly. “Phil’s a good man, but this isn’t a war and we’re not his soldiers. There’s something out here, something Andrew thought was important, and we’re going to find it.”

Jemma caught her lower lip between her teeth before deciding it was better to know now than to be blindsided later. “Does that mean I shouldn’t work with Fitz anymore?” she asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice as they all started down the hill and into their camp.

“That’s really up to Phil,” May said. “But I don’t have a problem with the two of you working together.”

“Oh, good,” Jemma said, her shoulders slumping in relief. “I suppose I’ll go clean up for dinner.”

“Jemma,” May waited until Jemma turned to look at her before continuing. “Be careful. I can vouch for Phil, but we don’t know the others’ motives for being out here.”

“We can trust Fitz,” Jemma said firmly.

May nodded briskly before heading for the mess tent and Daisy latched onto Jemma’s elbow. “Come on,” Daisy said. “I have some great lipstick you can borrow.”

“Oh no, I don’t need any-”

“Jems, believe me, it’ll make Fitz go gaga over you. I mean, more than he already is.”

“He is not…gaga, whatever that means, don’t be silly.”

“Sure, and you’re not interested in digging up rocks with him forever and ever, either. Please, I spent all afternoon watching you two make eyes at each other.”

“Just because I enjoy Fitz’s company does not mean…” Jemma paused, visions of future, Fitz-less digs stretching out endlessly in front of her. They all seemed terribly dull. “He was looking at me?” Jemma finished weakly.

“Like you’re the most amazing old rock he’s ever seen,” Daisy said smugly. “Come on, we’ll do your hair, too.”

***

Fitz reached up to flatten his curls nervously as they all trooped over the hill and Jemma’s camp came into view. Hunter had grumbled over accepting May’s invitation to join them for dinner but had been ready to leave an entire half hour early, and Piper had seemed as eager as Fitz. He’d changed into his newest shirt and tried to clean himself up the best he could, but his razor had been dull, and he’d ended up with no cursed time to shave.

Jemma hadn’t seemed terribly put off by his untidiness thus far, but he had wanted to show her he knew how to comport himself properly. It hadn’t escaped his notice that her clothes were all new with nary a threadbare collar or cuff to be seen, or that there was a Simmons employed by the British Museum, where he’d been sending all her letters. Her family was obviously well-to-do, whereas his was barely respectable. Why she would even look at him twice, he had no idea, but he’d never forgive himself if he let her slip away because he was too afraid to try.

“This is a rubbish plan,” Hunter muttered.

“If you’ve got a better one, I’m all ears,” Coulson said. “Short of us doing something illegal, May doesn’t seem inclined to move on.”

Hunter let out a heavy sigh. “Bobbi’s the same. She’s dug in her heels.”

They both looked over at Fitz.

“What?” he asked.

Hunter waggled his eyebrows. “Think you could convince Simmons to abandon the search?”

Fitz’s face flamed. “I…it’s not like that!” Hunter rolled his eyes and Fitz huffed out a breath. “But I doubt it,” he admitted. “She’s very dedicated to her work.”

Piper snorted behind them and Coulson glanced over his shoulder. “Something to add, Piper?”

“No, sir,” she said. There was a brief silence. “It’s just nice to see the three of you admitting you’re no match for a group of brilliant women. Very refreshing.”

“I said no such thing!” Hunter exclaimed.

“Jemma is rather brilliant, isn’t she?” Fitz said.

Piper laughed as they entered the camp with Hunter still grumbling under his breath.

“Phil,” May said, standing in the long afternoon shadows cast by one the tents. “Glad you all could make it.” She nodded at Piper as the other woman kept walking, heading for a nearby cluster of tents.

Coulson reached up before seeming to remember he’d left his hat back at their camp. “Hello, May. Thanks for the invite.”

“Of course.” May gestured at the tent she stood beside. “Please.” They all filed inside, but there was no sign of Jemma and Fitz fidgeted impatiently while Coulson and May made small talk, settling down at one end of the table.

Hunter sidled up next to him. “Little nip?” he asked, offering Fitz a flask. Fitz shook his head, his eyes trained on the sliver of desert he could see outside the open flap serving as a doorway. Hunter nudged him. “Mate, seriously, what’s the deal? We’ve barely been out here a month. You don’t have to marry the first pretty girl you stumble across.”

Fitz slanted a look at Hunter. “Like you’re one to talk.”

Hunter’s jaw dropped. “Hey, I will have you know I was just…trying to ingratiate myself with the locals!”

“Bobbi’s American.”

“Well, she’d been living there a while.”

“Jemma said Bobbi was in Scotland to consult on an exhibit at one of the museums. Couldn’t have been that long.”

“Christ, do you memorize every word that comes out that bird’s mouth?”

“You just don’t want to admit you like being married.”

Hunter glared at him. “I don’t even know why we’re friends.”

“Didn’t seem to matter when you were _ingratiating_ yourself.”

Taking another swig from his flask, Hunter offered it to Fitz again. “Sorry about that,” he said quietly. Fitz took the flask this time and tilted his head back. Whatever liquor Hunter had filled it with made Fitz’s eyes water as he swallowed. He gasped and handed it back. “Wasn’t authorized to tell you anything.” Hunter screwed the top back on his flask and tucked it away. “But it wasn’t all a ruse, alright?”

Fitz stared out of the tent as the shadows deepened. “Yeah, alright.” May and Coulson’s conversation behind them got louder and more heated, though Fitz couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“She fancies you, too.”

“What?” Fitz turned in surprise and Hunter rolled his eyes.

“Your girl, you ponce. She’s goofy over you.”

“Yeah?” Fitz stood a little taller, his nervousness beginning to fade.

“Still, take it from me, marriage is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

There was movement outside the tent and Fitz’s heart did a flip of anticipation. A moment later, Jemma appeared, along with the others. She was laughing, her lips tinted a shade of red ochre that reminded him of the tomb reliefs he’d studied at University.

She outshone them all.

“She’ll steal all your favorite shirts, demand you stop going to the pub every night without her, and put her freezing cold feet on you when you’re trying to sleep,” Hunter said, crossing his arms.

“Sounds perfect,” Fitz breathed.

***

Daisy kept dropping her cutlery.

Jemma normally would have asked if something was wrong—dropping her utensils was not a dinner habit of Daisy’s—but every time Daisy dropped something, Jemma remembered she was supposed to be eating her meal and not just staring across the table at Fitz, so frankly it was quite helpful.

It was hard to concentrate when he was gazing at her in the soft glow of the lamplight like she was something incredible he’d discovered. Fitz looked rather marvelous himself, with the top button of his white shirt undone, and his hair tamed just enough to make Jemma want to mess it up again. He’d hardly touched his food, and since they’d sat down, he’d uttered maybe a dozen words in response to a question from Piper.

Besides, Daisy seemed to be having a grand time, regaling Piper with tales of some adventure or another. They were huddled together on the chairs next to Jemma and laughing like they’d known each other for years.

Fitz was alone on his side of the table, Bobbi and Hunter having disappeared almost as soon as they’d sat down to eat. May and Mr. Coulson occupied the far end of the table, their heads close together, with May’s map and a bottle of amber liquor out on the table between them. Jemma hoped that boded well for her and Fitz. She didn’t want to work on the excavation without him, now that they’d begun. Or any excavation, really.

Jemma peeked up at Fitz from under her eyelashes and watched him lift a forkful of something, his eyes fastened on her mouth. She smiled, biting her lip, and his fork wobbled as he smiled back. Perhaps Daisy had been right about the lipstick.  Though how she was supposed to get from Fitz noticing her mouth to him kissing it was still a bit of a mystery.

A knife hit the table rather loudly next to her, and Jemma jumped, startled out of her reverie. “Sorry,” Daisy said breathlessly. “I’m all thumbs tonight. Maybe a nice walk will do me good.”

Piper smiled, propping her elbow on the table and putting her chin in her hand. “A walk sounds nice. Would you like company?”

“Company would be very nice,” Daisy said, nudging Jemma with her elbow.

Jemma frowned, and then glanced at Fitz. “Oh, I suppose…”

Daisy’s eyes widened. “Oh no, Piper and I are fine on our own, but didn’t you have something in your tent you wanted to show Fitz?”

“What?” Jemma asked, confused.

Across the table, Fitz set his fork down with a distinct clink.

“The _thing_ ,” Daisy emphasized. “That you wanted to show Fitz.”

“The…” Jemma trailed off as Daisy waggled her eyebrows and she finally caught on. “Oh! The…the book,” Jemma said in a sudden fit of inspiration.

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Sure, the book. You should show him that. Ready, Piper?”

Piper was already standing, her hands in her trouser pockets. She smiled and offered Daisy her arm before the two of them disappeared into the darkness outside, leaving Jemma and Fitz alone, aside from their patrons.

Jemma glanced over at May, who was still deep in conversation, and then back at Fitz. She took a breath, trying to calm the butterflies that’d taken up residence in her stomach. “I…would you like to see my, um, my book?”

Fitz opened his mouth, then closed it and cleared his throat. “Yes,” he finally said.

The butterflies in Jemma’s stomach seemed to multiply. “Excellent,” she said briskly, standing up and abandoning her barely touched meal. Fitz got up so quickly he nearly knocked over his chair and then spent a moment groping for his hat before seeming to remember he hadn’t brought it. He scrubbed a hand through his hair instead, sending it into disarray.

“Lead the way,” he said. Jemma was startled from her contemplation of what his curls would feel like slipping through her fingers and hoped the light was too dim for him to notice her blush.

“Yes, of course.” She walked out of the tent into the moonlit desert, pausing for a moment to let her eyes adjust.

Fitz stopped beside her, a quiet presence at her side. It should be strange, how easily he’d slipped into her life like he was meant to be there all along, but she found it rather comforting instead. Egypt was just as exciting as she’d imagined, and Daisy, May, and Bobbi were all lovely people, but she was a bit more homesick than she’d expected. When she’d been stuck in the basement of the museum, she’d been just a floor or two away from people who understood and shared her passion for ancient things, and a proper cuppa, but out here, she’d just had Fitz’s letters.

At least, until she’d met Fitz himself.

Jemma glanced sideways and reached out, boldly grasping Fitz’s hand and tugging him in the direction of her tent. She actually did have several volumes he’d probably find fascinating. His palm was warm as she slotted their fingers together and his thumb tentatively caressed the back of her hand, sending a lovely shiver up her arm. She wished the walk was longer, and almost regretted not joining Daisy and Piper on their evening stroll, except she wasn’t sure she’d have been brave enough to take Fitz’s hand in front of the others.

“Here we are,” she said, her voice loud in the quiet night. Fitz hadn’t said a word since they’d left the mess tent, but there was enough moonlight for her to see his smile. She pulled the tent flap serving as a door aside and led him in, pressing a gentle hand to his chest in a silent request to be still while she found her lamp. She struck a match, setting it to the wick until it caught, and a warm glow filled the small space.

It wasn’t much, and Fitz’s head nearly brushed the canvas overhead, but there was room for Jemma’s trunk, tucked neatly at the foot of her cot, and a small table that held the lamp and several of her books. She’d forgotten that she hadn’t put away his letters, and she nudged them to one side, setting a book atop them and hoping he didn’t think it silly that she’d gotten so attached before they’d even met. She began to go through the remaining stack of tomes, trying to decide which ones Fitz might find most interesting.

“Jemma.” She turned toward him, a book in her hand and caught her breath as he stepped closer. “Is that it?” he asked, his fingers tapping the spine of her book. He looked at her just as intently as he’d done through their meal. Jemma’s heart was pounding.

“I, um, possibly?” she replied weakly. She really had no clue what book was in her hand. His brow furrowed slightly. “I…oh, it was Daisy’s idea.” Jemma set the book down on the table, feeling foolish. “I thought I might, I mean if you wanted to, that it might be nice to…to…” She bit her lip. “To kiss you,” she whispered.

Something in Fitz’s expression shifted, though she barely had time to register it before he was so close she could only focus on his eyes, the blue barely visible in the lamplight. His hands settled on her waist and all the breath whooshed from her lungs. “I thought that might be nice, too,” he said hoarsely.

And then he was.

***

Egypt was quite possibly Fitz’s favorite place in the entire world. He was certain it was Jemma’s, and there was no doubt he wanted to be wherever she was. 

The short walk to her tent had been both bliss and torture. Ever since she’d sat down across the table from him for supper, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. The very notion that such a smart, beautiful woman would like him in the way he liked her, as Hunter had suggested, was almost overwhelming.

Fitz had no idea what he was supposed to do. Jemma, though, seemed to always be a step ahead of him. The way she’d fearlessly taken his hand, leading the way through the camp, had sent his heart soaring. He’d spent a moment cataloging how the moonlight lit the crown of her head and how wonderfully her palm had fit against his own. She’d kept looking over at him, her eyes wide and luminous, and he hadn’t been able to think of one blasted thing to say.

It was the letters that dispersed all remaining doubt. His letters, stacked neatly next to her books, their edges worn and the creases nearly invisible, like they were just as precious a resource. She’d brought them here, a thousand miles from home. She’d wanted him with her.

Fitz had finally managed to shake himself out of his stupor, though he could barely say more than her name, and then, somehow—he was kissing her.

The first touch of his lips against hers was tentative, testing, wanting to be sure he hadn’t gotten it all wrong, but Jemma just let out a soft little sigh and leaned into him. Fitz tightened his hold on her hips, drawing her near, and Jemma wound her arms around his neck. Her fingers crept up to fiddle with the curls on the nape of his neck and he shivered, pressing his mouth more firmly against hers.

Her shirt was silky smooth under his hands, entirely unlike the fabrics he wore. He imagined her skin was just as soft as he slid his fingers up the line of her spine. Jemma whimpered, her lips parting, and Fitz let his tongue skim along the roof of her mouth, tasting her.

Jemma broke the kiss and disappointment flooded through Fitz, but she didn’t step away. Instead, she gently tugged him over to her cot while he stumbled along as best he could, not wanting to release her in case doing so would cause her to disappear. She pressed her lips against his jaw, his chin, his throat, making the most incredible little noises, a puff of breath marking each spot she touched. Tugging on his shirt collar, she pulled him down with her as she sat down on the cot and Fitz was able to recapture her mouth.

Jemma surged against him, nibbling on his lip, and if he’d known this evening was going to lead here, perhaps Fitz actually would have listened to Hunter’s advice for once and prepared for it. Only how could he have possibly imagined all his dreams were going to come true at once? He silently cursed himself as he cupped her cheek with one hand, bracing the other against the cot as she tipped backward, dragging him down with her.

“Fitz,” Jemma gasped, her hands fisted in the front of his shirt. “I-”

A distant scream had him jerking his head up, panting. Jemma propped herself up on her elbows, a bewildered expression on her face, and Fitz was distracted for a moment by the way her shirt pulled tight across her breasts. Good god, but she was lovely.

“Did you hear that?” Jemma asked.


	7. Reconnaissance

Coulson’s warning from earlier echoed in Fitz’s ears as he stared down at her puzzled face. “Jemma, I…there’s something I should tell you.”

Another loud, high-pitched scream had them both scrambling off the cot.

“Maybe you should…” Fitz began, hoping she’d agree to stay where it was safe, giving him a moment to recover his wits and discretely adjust his trousers, but Jemma was already heading out into the night.

He cursed and hurried after her, grabbing the lantern on his way out and Jemma’s hand as he caught up to her. She threaded her fingers with his as they walked through the quiet camp, and he relaxed slightly, relieved that it seemed they weren’t currently in any danger.

“May!” Jemma called out as a figure emerged from the mess tent.

“Jemma? Where’s Daisy?”

Fitz halted when Jemma did, watching the tops of the ridges around them. He didn’t see any movement. “She and Piper went for a walk,” Jemma said. “I was just showing Fitz my, um, books.”

May moved into the circle of light cast by the lantern Fitz was holding and her eyes flickered over his face. “I see,” she said. “Do you know which way they went?”

Jemma shook her head and Fitz jerked his chin in the opposite direction of Jemma’s tent. “It sounded like the screaming was coming from over there.”

“May,” Coulson said, appearing out of the darkness. “Oh good, you’ve found two of them at least. Fitz,” Coulson nodded at him, and Fitz was sure that his patron almost smiled for a second. “Hunter’s on his way. We’ll check the perimeter.”

Someone swore behind Fitz and he turned, catching sight of Hunter, Bobbi hot on his heels. Her hair was down and her shirt was untucked and Hunter was in an even worse state of dishabille. “I said you’re staying here, Bob!” Hunter said loudly, struggling to button his shirt.

“I am not staying behind while you go gallivanting off looking for god knows what in the middle of the night!” Bobbi yelled back.

Jemma tightened her hold on Fitz’s hand and tucked herself against his side. “You’re not going to go, are you?” she asked worriedly.

“No?” Fitz replied, looking to Coulson for confirmation.

“No,” Coulson agreed. “You stay here. May, you…” Fitz watched Jemma’s patron stride off into the darkness. “Come with me, I guess.” Coulson left the circle of lamplight a moment later.

Hunter came to a halt next to Fitz. “Keep a sharp eye on this one,” he muttered. Bobbi elbowed his ribs. “Ow, woman, would you stop!”

Bobbi glared at him, her arms crossed. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

“Fine,” Hunter growled. “Then let’s go.” He leaned closer to Fitz. “You’ve got a bit of…” He gestured at his own mouth and winked. Fitz wrinkled his brow, confused, but Jemma inhaled rather sharply beside him.

“Yes, thank you,” Jemma said crisply. “Shouldn’t you be helping May and Mr. Coulson?”

Hunter grinned, reaching back and grasping Bobbi’s hand. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Fitz watched them disappear into the darkness and glanced around, feeling exposed. If anything happened to Jemma, he’d never forgive himself. “Back to the tent?”

She nodded, and he steered her in that direction, peering into the shadows around them. He could hear faint bickering coming from one of the hills nearby, which at least meant the others hadn’t stumbled into any danger just yet.

Jemma released his hand as they entered her tent and Fitz set the lantern down, frowning. He had very little experience with this sort of thing, but he imagined he ought to try and arm himself with some kind of weapon. The trouble was, all he could see were piles of books, and he certainly didn’t want to incur Jemma’s wrath by ruining one of them. The lantern seemed sturdy enough, but that again led to the problem of possibly destroying her books, this time by setting them alight.

Distracted, Fitz almost missed Jemma wetting a handkerchief. He watched in confusion as she reached up and rubbed her thumb over his lower lip. “I’m afraid I got a bit of lipstick on you,” she said, her cheeks pink in the glow of the lantern.

Fitz felt his cheeks heat as well. That certainly explained Hunter’s earlier comments. Jemma cupped his chin in her hand and gently dabbed at his mouth, her face the picture of concentration. Fitz’s hands settled on her hips and he stood, spellbound as she revisited all the places her lips had touched. He relived the memory of her heated kisses in vivid detail, the way she’d slid her mouth along his jaw and up under his ear, and there’d been, apparently, a spot on his throat she’d very much enjoyed. He let out an unintentional groan as she tugged on his collar to move it out of the way and she bit her lip, gazing up at him.

He was never going to find another treasure that rivaled her, he was sure of it.

“There we are,” she said, her lovely face just inches from his. He almost regretted that all of her hard work was about to be for naught.

A low, distant shout caught their attention and Fitz pulled Jemma closer, wrapping his arms around her and snuffing the lamp. He edged toward the entrance of her tent and peered out into the darkness, but all was silent again.

“Fitz?” Jemma whispered. “Have you had some sort of trouble as well?” She was staring out into the night, her brow furrowed.

Fitz pulled back, startled. “What do you mean?”

Jemma looked up at him guiltily. “I suppose I should have mentioned something earlier but May seemed sure we were safe out here and nothing strange has happened since we got off the ship.”

“Wait, she’s working for the American government too?” Fitz asked, puzzled.

“The government?” Jemma exclaimed. “Is Mr. Coulson a spy?”

Fitz winced. Coulson was going to have his head, but it was too late now. Besides, hadn’t he and Hunter asked for Fitz’s help in convincing Jemma and to abandon the search for whatever this thing was? “No, he’s…he’s with the Secret Service, actually. May’s not, I take it.” He frowned. “What happened on the ship?”

Jemma waved a hand impatiently. “Oh, we just had our rooms turned upside down by some unknown person. Nothing was taken. But how exciting! What is the Secret Service doing out here?”

“Jemma.” Fitz turned to give her his full attention, sliding his hand up her arms. “I don’t know anything other than whatever we’re after, it’s dangerous, and so are the people trying to find it before we do. Does Coulson know your rooms were ransacked? He was right, you shouldn’t be out here.” He went to pull her into a hug, but her body was oddly stiff.

“Excuse me?”

Fitz released her, confused by her reaction. “Sorry?” he said, not quite sure what he was apologizing for.

“What makes it alright for you to be here, looking for this supposed dangerous thing, but not me?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“Uh,” Fitz began, unsure why he was in suddenly in trouble for wanting to keep her safe. “I mean, Hunter and Coulson are trained to deal with this sort of thing.” He hoped. They seemed like they knew what they were doing, at least.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Jemma said, her eyes narrowing. “Why should you,” she poked him in the chest for emphasis, “Leopold Fitz, be allowed to continue with the excavation while I’m forced to abandon my work and be reduced to visiting temple sites like some common tourist?” He could see a sheen of tears shining in her eyes and he frantically tried to figure out how expressing his concern for her had led to this.

“That’s not what I-”

“Oh, just say it,” she snapped. “It’s because I’m a woman, isn’t it? You’re all the same.”

“We’re…who?” Fitz asked, hopelessly lost. “No, Jemma, I just don’t want…”

“Fitz!” Coulson called from somewhere nearby. “We’ve got a problem!”

Jemma swiped a hand over her eyes and glared at him. “You just don’t want to share the credit of your discovery with, god forbid, some mere woman. Yes, you’ve made that perfectly clear.” She spun on her heel as someone called her name, too. “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” she announced, and then she left the tent, her head held high.

Fitz stared after her, his mouth hanging open, before hurrying out as well. He might be completely in the dark about how Jemma had jumped to such a wrong conclusion, but if she wasn’t leaving then they had to find this thing quickly before something terrible happened. 

He rubbed his fingers against his palm, missing the feel of her hand in his. And he needed to figure out exactly where he’d gone wrong with Jemma, so he could fix it.

***

Jemma strode through camp, taking deep breaths and angrily wiping away her tears before the others could see them. They were gathered in the circle of lamplight just in front of the mess tent and she hurried in their direction.

Daisy was kneeling on the ground, gazing up at Piper, who was seated in a camp chair, her hat missing and her hair ruffled. There was a broad streak of dust along the side of her jacket. Coulson and May were whispering to each other nearby, but there was no sign of Hunter and Bobbi.

Jemma’s heart beat a little faster when she caught sight of everyone’s worried expressions. Perhaps Fitz had been right about things being more dangerous than they’d anticipated, but it still didn’t give him the right to order her to leave like she was nothing but a nuisance.

“What’s happened?” she asked.

“Piper’s hurt,” Daisy said, looking up anxiously.

“I’m fine,” Piper said, sounding exasperated. “Nothing’s broken.”

“Fitz,” Coulson said, glancing over Jemma’s shoulder. “Good. Daisy and Piper interrupted someone out at your excavation.”

“What were they doing?” Fitz asked. “Was anything taken?” His hand rested on Jemma’s lower back for a moment as he slipped past her and the simple, sweet gesture made her want to kiss him all over again. If only he hadn’t ruined everything with his insufferable male superiority. “Do I—we—” he amended, glancing over at Jemma, “need to check for damage?”

“Not tonight,” Coulson shook his head. “That wadi makes a great place for an ambush. We’ll wait until morning. They’ve disappeared for the time being, but we’re setting up watches for the rest of the night. Hunter and Bobbi are out there now.”

Fitz scrubbed a hand over his face and Jemma noticed a spot of lipstick on his jaw that she must have missed. Kissing him had been one of the most thrilling moments of her life, after her professional accomplishments of course, though none of those had made her toes curl quite the way Fitz’s touch had. The scrape of his stubble against her neck had sent a shockwave through her, and the heat that’d gathered between her hipbones hadn’t quite dissipated.

But she was still thoroughly angry with him.

“Would you be able to identify any of them?” Coulson said, turning to Daisy and Piper.

They both shook their heads. “We didn’t get close enough,” Piper said. “We noticed the lights first, and headed to the top of the ridge, but they must have posted a lookout. She’s the one who pushed me down the hill and I only caught a glimpse.”

“You’re sure it was a woman?” Coulson frowned.

“Positive,” Daisy said firmly. “Didn’t you hear the screaming?”

“Oh.” Coulson looked startled. “I thought…uh, never mind.” He cleared his throat. “Well, that’s something to go on.” 

Beside him, May rolled her eyes. Piper reached up to rake a hand through her hair and Jemma caught sight of some scrapes on her hand as well.

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Jemma said, glad of something to do that might take her mind off Fitz and his utter…maleness.

“I’ll get it,” May said, giving Daisy a look that Jemma wasn’t sure how to interpret. “You and Daisy help Piper to the tent.”

“It’s really not…” Piper started, only to snap her mouth shut as May lifted an eyebrow.

“And you,” May turned to Coulson, “are going to tell me exactly what the hell you left out of our little chat earlier.”

Jemma half-expected Coulson to argue, but he just nodded. He gestured toward the mess tent and May proceeded him inside, leaving Fitz standing alone. Jemma hurried to help Daisy get Piper up out of the chair and, despite Piper’s earlier protests, she leaned rather heavily on them as they started in the direction of Daisy’s tent.

“Jemma,” Fitz said, falling into step with them. “I’m sorry if I-”

“I need to tend to Piper,” she said crisply, avoiding his eyes. Daisy shot her a curious look.

Fitz blew out a breath. “Yeah, alright, just…be careful.”

Jemma met his gaze for a moment, and her stomach swooped at the worry in his eyes before he turned and headed back to the mess tent. Really, he was a very confusing man.

“Jems,” Daisy hissed under her breath as they hobbled away with Piper between them. “Please tell me you didn’t actually argue over some book instead of smooching like you were supposed to.”

“Of course not!” Jemma whispered back. “I mean, yes there was…oh, men are just infuriating.” Piper let out a laugh as the three of them entered Daisy’s tent. “What?” Jemma said as they settled Piper on Daisy’s cot. “It’s true! He’s so…I don’t know.”

“Keen?” Daisy supplied, sitting down on the cot and helping Piper remove her jacket. “The cat’s pajamas? Oh no, he didn’t turn out to be a flat tire, did he?”

Jemma frowned. “No! I mean, yes, he might be those things if I had any idea what you meant, but it doesn’t matter how good a kisser he is, he’s no different than the rest of them.”

“Cat’s pajamas!” Daisy crowed. “I knew it.”

“So, he’s a good kisser, huh?” Piper grinned and began to unlace her boot.

Jemma knelt at Piper’s feet to assist and shot her an exasperated look. “Yes, fine, he’s an excellent kisser, but I don’t see what that-”

“Ooh, now he’s excellent?” Daisy interrupted, sounding delighted.

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Well, it doesn’t matter, since there isn’t going to be any more kissing.”

“What?” Daisy’s face fell as Jemma picked up Piper’s bare foot and carefully rotated her ankle one way and then the other. “Why not? I mean, you do know there are lot more lousy kissers out there than excellent ones, right?”

Jemma could feel her face growing hotter as the conversation progressed. “It has nothing to do with the kissing! That part was wonderful, but he informed me immediately afterward that I should leave the excavation to him, like now that he’s kissed me I’m his to order about. He doesn’t want a partner, he wants some docile, agreeable doll. He’s just as bad as every other man.” Jemma finished, frustrated tears pressing at her eyes again. She glanced up at Piper. “Any pain?”

Piper lifted one shoulder. “A little, but it’s not horrible. Are you sure that’s what Fitz meant? Because I’ve been working with him for a few weeks now and he really doesn’t seem like that type of guy.”

“Yeah,” Daisy chimed in, her brow furrowing. “Maybe you should tell us exactly what he said.”

“Oh, I don’t remember,” Jemma said impatiently, her fingers probing Piper’s ankle while Daisy watched, her head on Piper’s shoulder. “I mentioned what happened on the ship and he was quite put out I hadn’t told him earlier, and then he told me about Coulson working for the government-” Piper groaned and Jemma looked up sharply. “Did that hurt?”

Piper shook her head. “No, it’s just we’re supposed to be keeping the whole government thing quiet, but pretty much everyone knows now, I guess.” She waved at Jemma. “Continue.”

Jemma took a breath. “And then he said whatever we’re looking for is dangerous, and I should leave it to him.” She made a face. “Because of course no woman should be involved in the discovery of something dangerous.”

Daisy pressed her lips together like she was fighting a smile. “Um, or he was just worried about you getting hurt?”

Jemma sat back, releasing Piper’s foot and regarding the two of them. “Wouldn’t he be worried about himself, then, as well?”

“He probably is.” Piper shrugged. “But he’s just more concerned about you. Maybe he didn’t say it very well, but I’d guess it’s less of a woman thing and a more of a you’re a person he cares about thing. He called you brilliant on the way over here, you know.”

“Did he?” Jemma said, startled.

“I don’t think, given a choice, that he’d want you to leave,” Piper continued with a small smile. “Since he wasn’t supposed to be working with you in the first place.”

“Oh,” Jemma said, sure her face was tomato-red. “Well, that’s…he wasn’t?”

“He really wasn’t,” Piper confirmed. “Coulson’s orders.”

May entered the tent, carrying a first aid kit in one hand and a gun in the other. Jemma’s eyes went wide. “I want you to stick together tonight,” she said. “Got it?” She handed the gun to Daisy, who took it solemnly.

Jemma took the kit, feeling her heart constrict. “What about the others?”

“Fitz is with Coulson,” May replied. “They’re taking second watch. Daisy, you and I are on third. I’ll wake you.”

“I can help,” Piper said, reaching for her boot.

“Not tonight,” May said. “We’ll need fresh eyes tomorrow.”

“May,” Jemma said. “What is it that we’re looking for, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” May said quietly. “But we need to find it before anyone else does.”


	8. A Tomb

Fitz blinked open bleary eyes, feeling like his eyelids were made of sandpaper as he tried to get his bearings. The cloth ceiling overhead wasn’t unusual, but the stiffness in his neck and the fatigue certainly were.

He turned his head to one side, wincing slightly, and spotted Coulson dozing in a chair nearby, his head tilted back at an uncomfortable-looking angle. 

Right. He was in Jemma’s camp, in the mess tent, because May and Coulson had finally decided it was best if they all stuck together. Which Fitz would have been ecstatic about if Jemma wasn’t so angry with him. Fitz hadn’t been able to straighten out their misunderstanding before sitting up half the night, watching over the excavation site. He didn’t give two figs about getting his name into the history books, but he’d be overjoyed to share the credit of any discovery with Jemma, because that would mean she was right there beside him. He couldn’t think of anything better. First, though, he had to find out if she was even willing to speak to him.

Fitz rubbed a hand across his face and groaned, sitting up and trying to work the kinks out of his back. Getting to his feet, Fitz yawned so wide his jaw cracked. Shivering on a dune in the chilly night air for several hours had given him plenty of time to consider where he’d gone wrong, but no matter how often he’d mentally revised his expression of concern it’d ended with Jemma thinking the worst of him.

Or perhaps not?

On the table in front of him was a thermos sitting next to a cup. Cautiously, he opened the thermos and inhaled the scent of perfectly steeped tea. A small tin of milk and a container of sugar were sitting nearby. There was exactly one person he knew who would have been so thoughtful. The ache in his chest eased a little, and hope began to take root. Perhaps Jemma wasn’t as angry with him as he’d supposed.

He set about fixing his tea just the way he liked it, his heart lighter and his exhaustion fading. The sunlight filtering in from outside told him it was already late morning. Stepping outside the tent, he found the camp quiet. He turned around, determined to wake Coulson, only to find his patron standing directly behind him. Letting out an undignified yelp, Fitz clutched his tea with both hands to keep from spilling any.

“Morning,” Coulson said, yawning.

“Uh, morning, sir.”

“Here,” Coulson pressed a roll into Fitz’s hand just as his stomach growled. “No time for breakfast, I’m afraid. Ready to go?”

“Where?” Fitz asked, biting into the roll resignedly. At least it was fresh.

Coulson’s brow furrowed. “To the excavation site.”

“Right. I’ll just get Jemma.”

“She should already be there.” Coulson patted his pockets and nodded, seemingly satisfied.

 The bread turned to ashes in Fitz’s mouth. “Alone?”

“Of course not.” Coulson shook his head. “May and I agreed that no one goes anywhere alone. I’m sure someone’s with that girl of yours.”

“She’s not my…” Fitz paused. Well, Jemma wasn’t technically his girl, but if she’d forgiven him enough to consider it, he’d be over the moon. Er, his girl in an entirely egalitarian sort of way, of course. He’d be happy to be hers as well. Especially if it meant more kissing.

Fitz took one last gulp of his tea before returning the cup to the mess tent and smoothing down the front of his very-wrinkled shirt. Neither he nor Coulson had their hats, but the cliff over the excavation site provided enough shade, and Fitz wasn’t about to suggest a detour to their camp when Jemma was already hard at work. 

He and Coulson trudged along the ridgeline in silence, though Fitz’s mind was buzzing with questions. “Sir?” he finally said.

“Hm?”

“How can we…after the incident last night, don’t you think it’s awfully dangerous for them to stay out here?”

“You mean May and her team?”

“They have to see now that you were right. Shouldn’t they be packing up and heading back to Luxor?”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you told Simmons as much, which is why you were sleeping in a camp chair instead of sharing her tent last night.”

“That’s not…I wouldn’t…” Fitz sputtered. 

Coulson patted his shoulder companionably. “I like her. And she’s certainly taken a shine to you.”

“If something happens to her-”

“I know,” Coulson said “But no matter how good your intentions are, as May has pointed out to me several times, everyone has the right to make that decision for themselves. The next best thing we can do is work together and try to keep everyone safe. Can you honestly say you’d worry about Simmons any less if she was gallivanting around Egypt while we continued the excavation without them?”

The thought of Jemma going anywhere without him turned Fitz’s stomach. He could barely stand the idea of her being over the next hill. “I…no,” he said reluctantly.

“Me neither,” Coulson said. Fitz looked over at him, puzzled, but the cliff came into view a moment later and every thought that wasn’t about the site or Jemma was shoved to the back of his mind.

He’d ask Coulson about it later.

***

“Oh no, would you look at this?” Jemma said in dismay, kneeling in the large hole the intruders had dug at the excavation site the night before. It was deep enough to expose nearly a meter of the wall she and Fitz had been excavating, and it was clear they’d been in a terrible rush. She touched the edge of an ancient stone, its recently broken edges clean and crisp in the sunlight.

“Jems.” Daisy peered down at her. “Are you going to mourn every rock down there?”

“Yes, I just might. This is an irreplaceable piece of history, you know!” She missed Fitz, he would understand, even if he did think himself superior. Possibly. She might have misunderstood his intentions the night before, but he’d still tried to order her to abandon their excavation and, as Daisy would say: that just wasn’t on. Though he had been up half the night guarding it, which did deserve some recognition. She hoped the tea she’d left was still hot enough when he awoke.

Daisy sighed. “Can I at least come down and help you dig or whatever?”

“No!” Jemma said sharply, looking up. “There will be no digging. They’ve already made a mess of things and it has to be properly catalogued before anything else is destroyed.”

“Ok, but May said we really don’t have a lot of time.”

“Well, I’m afraid these kinds of things aren’t to be rushed. Do you have any idea how long it took Mr. Carter to unearth the Tomb of Tutankhamen?”

“He’s still working on it, I’m guessing,” Daisy said. “Oh, hey, I think Piper’s calling me, gotta dash.”

“What?” Jemma looked up, perplexed. She hadn’t heard anything. “Wait, before you go, can you hand me my…Fitz,” she breathed.

He was crouched where Daisy had been and holding out Jemma’s journal with a hopeful expression. She took it wordlessly, staring up at the man who made her pulse quicken with both desire and irritation. The sun peeking over the edge of the cliff face was caught in his messy curls, and she hated how badly she wanted to kiss him again.

“Thank you,” Jemma said stiffly.

“Thank you for the tea this morning,” he said. “What else do you need?” Jemma opened her mouth, the suggestion that he go help Bobbi sift through the pile of rubble that’d come from where she was sitting on the tip of her tongue, but his phrasing made her pause. It certainly wasn’t a question she’d expect from a man who was trying to take sole credit for their excavation.

Jemma clutched her journal and then glanced at the damaged stones in front of her. She was quite sure she was looking at the side of a building of some sort, and she could just make out what might have been reliefs, but Fitz’s expertise would certainly help her piece together the broken bits much faster than she could do on her own. 

“Do you think you might help me decipher what was on these stones?”

Fitz was beside her a moment later, his shoulder pressed against hers. She inhaled shakily, trying hard not to let his proximity distract her. His nimble fingers picked up a bit of dusty stone, slotting it into place before she’d even decided which part of the wall it’d come from. Already, she could see the shape of a familiar hieroglyph.

“Like this?” Fitz asked, looking over and giving her a tentative smile.

Jemma opened her notebook and couldn’t resist smiling back. Perhaps Piper and Daisy had been right, and she had jumped to some rather hasty conclusions last night. “Perfect.”

***

“How about now?”

Fitz glared up at where Hunter had his chin propped on his hand, watching them work. He’d taken to hovering on the edge of the hole, asking about how much longer they were going to be and, based on the dark looks Jemma was throwing his way, was not earning himself any goodwill.

“Hunter, please,” Fitz said, carefully setting one of the last bits of stone he’d been able to find into place. Jemma had been scribbling away in her notebook since lunch, muttering to herself and frowning at the wall they’d been piecing back together before scribbling some more. He recognized several of the glyphs, but they’d never been as interesting to him as building techniques, so he was leaving the translation to her. “We’ll let you know when you can dig.”

“Yeah, look, I don’t think we’ve got the luxury of time. Whoever was out here last night is bound to come back.”

Jemma huffed out a breath beside him and Fitz reached over, tentatively resting his hand on her back in a show of support. “We’re aware, but if you want our help you’ll have to be patient.” He could feel Jemma relax.

“Coulson’s had us packing up the camps all afternoon, you realize that, right?”

“So?” Fitz concentrated on a particularly tricky section of the wall that’d crumbled to pieces smaller than his thumb. He wasn’t sure it’d ever be repaired well enough to read, but he could at least lay the pieces out in order and give Jemma the chance to try.

“So,” Hunter drawled. “That means we’re transitioning from relying on expertise to expediency.”

Fitz paused and lifted his eyebrows at his friend. “That’s strange,” Jemma said absently, frowning at her notebook.

“What, I can’t know big words?” Hunter said.

“Fitz, would you look at this?” Jemma leaned against his side and passed over her journal as Fitz settled his arm more firmly around her and jerked his chin at Hunter, who sighed loudly before disappearing.

“What am I looking at?” Fitz said, redirecting his attention to Jemma’s notes.

“Just here.” Jemma pointed at the lines she’d transcribed. “It’s quite odd, really.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Fitz said.

“That’s what I mean. It’s almost all gibberish. Here’s half a myth I recognize, but they’ve included the wrong gods, and most of the glyphs aren’t even facing the same direction.”

“What the hell?” Fitz muttered, looking from her notes to the wall in front of them. “The stones are definitely ancient, how could it be a fake?”

“I don’t know,” Jemma said, disappointment coloring her voice. “Oh, Fitz, this is terrible.”

“Wait.” Fitz squinted at the paper in front of him. “What are these?” He pointed to several figures Jemma had drawn.

“I don’t know,” Jemma said. “They’re similar to what’s on the map May has, but it’s not any language I’ve seen before. I’m not sure it even is a language.”

“Looks almost like morse code,” Fitz mused.

“I thought so too, at first, but that didn’t check out either.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Fitz’s mouth. Of course she’d thought of that already, and eliminated it as a possibility. Fitz took a breath, wanting to try and apologize for last night’s misunderstanding, when Hunter’s head popped back into view.

“How about now?” Hunter said.

Jemma rolled her eyes and pulled away from Fitz, much to his disappointment. “I don’t see why not,” she said, looking over at Fitz. He shrugged before getting to his feet and offering Jemma a hand up. She seemed to debate a moment before taking it, but her grip was firm when she slipped her hand into his, and he was reluctant to let her go again.

Surprise flitted across Hunter’s face. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“It’s not as though we’d be able to share it if we had discovered something,” Jemma sighed. “Since this has apparently turned into somewhat of a top-secret mission.”

“True,” Fitz said. “But there’s always next time.”

“I suppose so.” Jemma gave him a smile that made his heart leap.

“Yeah, fantastic, plenty of places around here where you two can make eyes at each other over a heap of dirt. Now come on up and give me some room.” Hunter reached down and snagged Jemma’s hand first, hauling her out of the hole before offering a hand to Fitz, who met Hunter’s cheeky smile with a glare. “What?

***

Jemma squinted towards the excavation site, trying not to be anxious about what Hunter might be flinging about with his digging.

“Is there more coffee?” Bobbi asked, stretching her long legs out in front of her. Daisy reached over and topped off Bobbi’s cup. “Thanks.”

“No, this is fine, I don’t need help digging up an entire building or anything!” Hunter called, leaning on his shovel. He was down to just his undershirt, there was a dark smudge across his forehead, and the pile of dirt was growing beside the waist-deep hole he was in. Afternoon was creeping into evening and the shadows were getting long, but the air was still warm. Jemma had joined the others in the shade of the cliff, leaving Hunter to dig.

Fitz was standing nearby with Coulson, presumably filling his patron in on what he and Jemma had discovered this afternoon. Jemma wondered idly how Fitz would look covered in dirt and streaked with sweat, wearing just his undershirt. Or even no shirt. Her cheeks heated and she dropped her gaze, hoping her lust wasn’t plain on her face.

“You’re doing great, honey!” Bobbi called cheerfully.

“I’m starting to see why you married him,” Daisy mused, tilting her head.

“It certainly isn’t a drawback,” Bobbi said.

“I still can’t believe he breezed off on you like that,” Daisy said, frowning.

Bobbi bit her lip. “I mean, I did kick him out first. And I might have told him not to bother coming back. I think the time apart might have actually been good for us.”

Jemma looked over in surprise. “How so?” She couldn’t imagine how upset she’d be if Fitz disappeared without any explanation. Especially if they were married. Not that she was thinking of entering into that sort of arrangement with him. Or anyone.

Bobbi watched Hunter dig, his colorful curses echoing through the wadi. “Neither one of us did a very good job of talking about the important things before we got hitched. We were a little busy…well, you know.” Bobbi nodded in Hunter’s direction and Daisy laughed. Jemma’s blush deepened. “And afterwards we both kind of…avoided talking about anything until it blew up in our faces. I couldn’t believe it when he turned up here.”

“Maybe it was fate, helping you two out of a jam,” Daisy said. She smirked as Jemma rolled her eyes.

Bobbi laughed. “Maybe. It’s definitely turned out to be a nice surprise.” Hunter lifted the hem of his undershirt and used it to smear a streak of dirt across his cheek while they all watched. Bobbi let out a loud, appreciative whistle that made Hunter grin.

“So, things are better?” Jemma asked cautiously.

“Well, we’re actually talking about stuff this time, among other things,” Bobbi said, hiding her smile behind her cup. “And once he gets it through his thick skull that I’d like him to stick around, I think we’re going to be just fine.”

Daisy let out a happy sigh. “This trip is turning out just swell.” She nudged Jemma’s shoulder. “Don’t you think?”

Jemma sat up a little straighter as Coulson and Fitz both started walking towards where Hunter was digging. “If that means good, then yes, I think it might be.”

***

“No, just there,” Fitz wiped his brow and gestured toward the deepening shadows. Rolling up his sleeves hadn’t relieved much of the evening heat, but there was barely any sunlight left and the desert cooled quickly. Hunter had uncovered part of what looked like an entrance, framed in those nonsensical reliefs. Despite their conclusion that this was probably an elaborate fake, Fitz couldn’t help but feel a bit of excitement, like he and Jemma really were making a grand discovery. Too bad they’d never be able to tell anyone else about it.

“Mate,” Hunter sighed, having stopped his digging for some inexplicable reason. “I see the blasted thing, but you don’t think we’re going to unearth it all like this, do you?”

Fitz looked up, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Coulson dropped down into the hole a minute later, a bundle in his hands. “Got it.”

Hunter thrust the shovel at Fitz and rubbed his hands together. “Excellent.”

“Uh, what…” Fitz’s eyes widened as Coulson carefully set down what he was carrying and unwrapped several cylindrical objects. “Is that dynamite?”

“Finally,” Hunter crowed, sounding much too enthusiastic.

“This is everything May and Piper were able to find,” Coulson said.

Hunter nodded, his hands on his hips. “Should be more than enough to blow the lid off this thing.”

Fitz took a hasty step back. “Are we sure that’s a good idea? We still haven’t figured out exactly what might be inside, if anything.”

Coulson frowned. “We’ll use as little explosive as possible, Fitz.” Hunter made a disappointed noise. “But we don’t have time to waste right now. Whoever was here last night could come back at any time.”

Fitz rubbed one temple. “You’re right. I’ll just go break the news to Jemma.”

“They’re going to what!” he heard her exclaim a moment later.

“Good luck.” Hunter grinned at him and reached for one of the sticks of dynamite. “Maybe try and distract her like you did last night.”

“Would you give it a rest?” Fitz hissed as he hoisted himself out the hole. “Just because you and your wife enjoy arguing about everything doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”

Hunter frowned. “We don’t argue about everything. We just happen to be very passionate people, alright?” 

“Hunter,” Bobbi said, appearing suddenly beside Fitz. “You might want to hurry.” She paused for a moment. “And please don’t blow yourself to smithereens.”

Hunter looked up at her and smiled. “Roger that, love.”

“Thank you. And you,” Bobbi pointed at Fitz, “get over there and explain to Jemma why this has to be done.”

Fitz blew out a breath. “I’ll try.” He hastened across the wadi toward the cliff face, wincing as Jemma’s voice got louder, and stopped short of the knot of people trying to reason with her.

“Fitz,” she said, peering over May’s shoulder, her expression stormy. “Tell me you haven’t agreed to this insane plan.”

He winced. “Uh, well…”

“Fitz!” Jemma gasped.

“Um, we’ll just…go over there,” Daisy said, grabbing Piper’s arm and dragging her further down the wadi. May just lifted her eyebrow at him and walked away, joining Coulson. Hunter was being assisted by Bobbi over his objections if their renewed bickering was anything to go by.

“We agreed it’s not a real tomb,” Fitz began.

Jemma crossed her arms. “Not an Egyptian tomb,” she said archly. “But it’s still ancient! Who knows what kind of unique archeological evidence they’re going to blow to bits?”

“I promise, it’s for a good cause.” Jemma’s face crumpled and Fitz hastily dug through his pockets, trying to find his handkerchief, only to look up and realize she was stomping away. “Jemma!” He hurried to catch up with her.

“I can’t believe you’re taking their side,” she hissed. “I thought…oh, I don’t know why I’m surprised. Of course you wouldn’t give equal weight to my concerns.”

“Jemma.” Fitz planted himself in front of her. She stopped short, but refused to look at him, making Fitz’s heart twist in his chest. “I am on your side,” he said. “I swear it, but this…whatever we’re looking for, it’s dangerous. We can’t let it fall into the wrong hands. I know this isn’t ideal, but neither are the circumstances. The people from last night are bound to come back and I can’t…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“You can’t what?” Jemma asked, her eyes narrowing.

“I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt,” he admitted.

“Fire in the hole!” Hunter yelled.

Jemma’s eyes widened and Fitz instinctively reached for her as a blast shook the wadi, making his ears ring. It took another moment for him to realize he’d wrapped her in an embrace, his hand protectively cradling her head while he held her close. Jemma was clutching the front of his shirt and her breath washed across the exposed skin of his throat.

Reluctantly loosening his hold, Fitz tried to take a step back. Jemma didn’t let go of his shirt, and she was looking up at him like…like she had last night when they’d-

“Fitz!” Coulson yelled. “Simmons, come have a look at this!”

Jemma immediately released him, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink in the fading evening light, and Fitz wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms again.

“I suppose we might as well see what they’ve uncovered,” Jemma said. Fitz could only nod, trailing behind her as she headed toward the even larger hole where their excavation site used to be. Bits of stone littered the ground and Hunter was beaming rather proudly beside it.

Coulson pressed a torch into Fitz’s hand and gestured at the gaping hole in the side of the ancient structure. “After you,” he said.

Fitz followed Jemma down the embankment and they stood for a moment in front of whatever it was they’d discovered together. Fitz reached for her hand, his heart thumping faster as she interlinked their fingers. “Ready?”

“I think so,” she said, sounding as overwhelmed as he felt.

He clicked on the torch as they stepped in, careful of the short drop to the floor. It stretched back further than he’s expected, the torch beam barely lighting up the far wall, and every inch of the place was covered in reliefs, these ones as colorful as though they’d been painted the day before.

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma gasped, letting go of his hand and taking a step towards the wall. Another torch beam swept past them, landing on a nearby sarcophagus. It was imposing enough on its own that it took Fitz a moment to realize why it didn’t look quite right, though of course Jemma caught it right away. “No name,” she murmured, trailing her hand across the surface. “And no damage to indicate one was chiseled off.”

“What do you think? Inside that thing?” Coulson asked, coming to stand next to Fitz. 

Shrugging one shoulder, Fitz directed his torch beam along the four walls. It would take a while for he and Jemma to decipher it all, especially if it was simply more nonsense like what had been on the exterior. “Seems as good a place to start as anywhere else.”

“Great,” Coulson said. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Oh no, you’re not going to blow this up, too?” Jemma asked, clutching the corner of the sarcophagus protectively.

“What have we got, gold, mummies, anything interesting?” Hunter poked his head in, carrying a crowbar.

Jemma put her hands on her hips. “Honestly, while I admire Mr. Carter’s work, he really has set some very inaccurate precedents for archeology.”

“Perfect.” Coulson relieved Hunter of the crowbar and handed Jemma his torch. “Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”

Fitz moved closer to Jemma, an uneasy feeling slithering through him, and she grasped his arm. Hunter moved to assist Coulson, pushing against the heavy stone lid as it was lifted, stone scraping against stone.

“Can you see anything?” Coulson panted.

Hunter peered into the sarcophagus, frowning. “Yeah, actually. Bit smaller than I expected.”

Coulson stepped up beside him and frowned too. “Huh, you’re right.” He reached into the sarcophagus and Fitz heard Jemma make an indignant squeak that turned into a gasp as Coulson pulled a small metal object from the interior. It shone dully with an inner light, casting a strange blue glow unlike anything Fitz had ever seen.

“Uh, that it?” Hunter asked.

“Don’t know,” Coulson said. “But it’s definitely not the usual thing you find in a place like this.”

“Sir,” Jemma began, only to be cut off a moment later by a loud shout, followed by a sharp crack.

Hunter’s head snapped towards the door and Coulson hastily stuffed the blue thing in his jacket pocket. “Stay here!” Coulson ordered as several additional loud cracking sounds came from outside.

Gunfire, Fitz finally registered. Someone was shooting. He pushed Jemma behind him and began to cautiously approach the entrance as Hunter scrambled out, calling Bobbi’s name, followed quickly by Coulson.

The shouting intensified but Fitz could make out Coulson’s voice cutting through the din. It sounded like he was still just outside the tomb. “Ward?” Coulson asked in disbelief.

“Coulson,” an unfamiliar voice said. “Thanks for doing all the hard work for us.”

There was a strange thumping sound that had Fitz edging closer to the door. Jemma’s hand was fisted into the back of his shirt and she tugged on it insistently. “Be careful,” she whispered.

“Get back, everyone get back!” Coulson bellowed.

Fitz scrambled away, clutching Jemma’s arm as another crack of gunfire sounded. A moment later, a deafening explosion swept through the tomb. Jemma clapped her hands over her ears and Fitz stumbled and fell, still holding onto her. He shielded her with his body as pieces of stone rained down on them, and dust filled the room.

The last thing he saw was Jemma’s wide, terrified eyes as their torches rolled across the floor and the sound of rocks crumbling told him his worst fears had come true.

He hadn’t been able to protect her after all.


	9. Discovery

“Fitz,” Jemma whispered, choking back tears. Now wasn’t the time to cry, she would save that for after they figured a way out of here. She gently brushed his curls back from the lump on his temple and watched the rise and fall of his chest, reassuring herself that he was only unconscious. She’d managed to wiggle out from underneath him and hadn’t noticed any other injuries during her brief once over, but he needed to wake up if she was going to do a full assessment. “Fitz,” she said again.

He groaned, and her heart leapt into her throat. “Jemma?” His eyes blinked open and he reached up, brushing his fingers across her cheek. “Are you alright?”

“Am I…” Jemma hastily swiped at her cheeks and let out a watery laugh. “Yes, I’m fine, but you’ve taken quite a knock to the head. Does anything else hurt?”

Frowning, Fitz glanced down at himself like he was taking inventory and Jemma absently carded her fingers through his hair while she waited. His head was a warm weight in her lap, and quite honestly if he didn’t want to move, she was happy to let him stay.

“No, nothing else,” he decided.

Jemma nodded, her fingertips probing the area around his temple carefully as he winced. “You weren’t out for long, but I’m concerned you might have a concussion.”

“Think we might have bigger things to worry about,” Fitz said, reaching up to take her hand. He settled it on his chest, covering it with his own and gazing up at her. “You sure you’re not hurt?”

“Fitz,” Jemma said, a bit of exasperation leaking into her tone. “I’m not made of porcelain.”

“I know that.”

“Then stop behaving as though I’ll fall to pieces at the first sign of danger!”

Fitz propped himself on one elbow, still clutching her hand. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re well past signs of danger. Someone just tried to blow us up for god’s sake!”

“And you could have gotten yourself killed!” Jemma exclaimed. “I would never forgive myself if…” she inhaled and curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt as he eased himself back down to rest his head on her leg. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, either.”

“Oh.”

Fitz stared up at her, his eyes wide as Jemma impatiently dashed a tear from her cheek. “Well then, I’m glad that’s settled. There’ll be no more of this nonsense where you put yourself in terrible danger.”

The corner of Fitz’s mouth quirked up. “I’ll do my best. Didn’t really expect this sort of thing on an archeological dig, honestly.”

“It’s quite different from what I expected as well,” Jemma admitted. She wound a strand of his hair around one finger. “Though I can’t say I regret accepting May’s offer.”

“I’m rather grateful of that myself.”

Jemma felt her face heat, though the interior of the tomb was already quite warm. “Yes, well, I’ve taken stock of our situation. We have two torches but no water or food, which is going to become an issue rather quickly.” Fitz sighed, squeezing her hand one last time and pushing himself up before releasing her fingers. He closed his eyes for a moment and Jemma settled a hand between his shoulder blades. “How are you feeling?”

“Just a little lightheaded, I’m fine,” Fitz said, opening his eyes again. He frowned at the crumbled remains of the entrance and Jemma plucked anxiously at her trouser leg, trying not to blurt out the conclusion she’d come to before he’d awoken. “Jemma,” Fitz said, his voice soft. “I don’t think we can do much from in here without making it worse.”

Her shoulders slumped. Damn, she’d really been hoping that, just this once, she was wrong. “I know.”

Fitz shifted, propping his back against the sarcophagus and reaching out to take her hand. “I’m sure the others are working on it,” he said.

Jemma settled next to him so they were shoulder to shoulder and laced their fingers together. “Do you think they’re alright?”

His hesitation was short but telling. “Yeah, I’m sure they are.”

Jemma bit her lip and rested her head on his shoulder. The dust from the explosion was settling down, lazily drifting through the torch beam now pointed at the wall. The reliefs stood out starkly, familiar Egyptian scenes with incorrect gods and hieroglyphs mixed in among stranger symbols she couldn’t place. She idly followed a nonsensical line of carvings that ended, rather oddly, in something she actually recognized. Straightening up, Jemma blinked at the wall. “Fitz.”

“Hm?” he asked, sounding distracted. His thumb was sweeping back and forth across her knuckles.

“I think we’ve found something.”

***

Jemma scrambled for the torch and Fitz squinted at the wall in front of them, confused. His ears were still faintly ringing and his head ached, but he was sure he was still of strong enough mind to follow Jemma’s train of thought. At least, he’d been sure.

“Where?” Fitz said.

Jemma swept aside a few stones impatiently before kneeling a few feet in front of him, the beam of light sweeping across a section of wall carved with what looked like a meandering squiggle surrounded by dots. “Look, Fitz,” she said excitedly. “It’s May’s map.”

“You had a map?”

“Did Mr. Coulson not have one?” She leaned forward and touched the squiggle, giving Fitz an excellent view of her rear.

“Uh, not that I know of?” he said.

“Oh.” Jemma looked over her shoulder, frowning, and Fitz guiltily tore his eyes from her behind. “Of course he didn’t, or you would have found this place much faster.”

The compliment warmed Fitz’s heart. Though truth be told, the interior of the tomb was warm enough to be a little uncomfortable already. He tugged on his collar and undid a button, trying not to think about how long they’d last if the others weren’t already trying to dig them out. A couple of days, tops, without water in this stifling heat, and it would only get worse when the sun rose again.

He eyed the pile of rubble blocking the entrance but came to the same conclusion as before. It was already covering part of the sarcophagus and disturbing it might cause further encroachment into the small space left to them. If they didn’t hear any sign of the others in a few hours, though, maybe they’d have to risk it.

“It’s upside down though,” Jemma said, turning her attention back to the wall.

Fitz tilted his head and mentally flipped the map over. “Is that the Nile?”

“Yes, exactly!” Jemma touched one of the dots, which was painted, like almost all the others, in a pale blue color. “I think this is Luxor, which means…” She trailed her fingers down the wall to a single red dot. “This must be near Cairo,” she said.

Fitz pushed himself away from the sarcophagus and joined her by the wall. “That doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“I know,” Jemma sighed. “Whoever made these maps left out quite a few important details. May’s doesn’t have any kind of legend or scale and several of the spots marked correspond to ruins rather than cities.”

“It’s probably the pyramids,” Fitz mused.

“Not everything is about the pyramids, Fitz.”

“Where else would you hide something of significance thousands of years ago?”

“Oh, I don’t know! Saqqara, the old walled city, any number of obelisks, perhaps the one in-”

Something just to the right of the map caught Fitz’s eye. “Wait, Jemma, what’s that?” He pointed for her to redirect the torch.

“Looks a bit like our sarcophagus,” Jemma mused. A surge of affection rolled through him at her describing it as _their_ discovery, and Fitz shuffled a little closer to her. Even in this predicament, she was beautiful, with her hair escaping its fastenings and her face streaked with dust. Her eyes were alight with excitement and he was sure, if she asked it of him, that he’d follow her to the ends of the earth.

Though there was still the misunderstanding from last night to clear up. “Jemma,” he began cautiously, “about yesterday…” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Not again. Fitz. I think it’s a bit late for me to leave, don’t you?”

“No, that’s not…I didn’t mean for it to come out like it did.”

“You mean the part where you ordered me off like a child?” Jemma arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, I mean, no! That’s not how I intended it. I only wanted you to be safe.”

“Oh, you’re just like the rest of them,” she said, sounding irritated.

“The rest of who?” Fitz asked, bewildered.

“Everyone!” The light from the torch swept across the wall as she gestured emphatically to make her point. “I am so tired of people trying to tell me what I can and cannot do just because I’m a woman.”

Fitz drew in a startled breath. Ah, he hadn’t considered that angle. “No, Jemma, that’s-”

“First it’s my instructors assuming I’m merely interested in higher education to find a husband, and then the damn positions I applied for going to men who barely know their Demotic from their Latin, and then it’s my father, hoping I’ll be content in the museum so as not to worry my mother, when all she’s really worried about is when I’m going to get _married_ and-”

Fitz’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Married?” he croaked out. Oh no, he hadn’t even thought to ask if she had someone waiting for her back home. But she was so amazing, of course she would, he was a fool to think otherwise. “You’re engaged?”

“What?” Jemma exclaimed. “No!” Fitz slumped against the wall, relieved. “I wouldn’t have…” Her face was flushed in the torchlight. Or perhaps the tomb was getting warmer. “I can assure you I’m not the sort of girl who would kiss a man if she were engaged to someone else.” She frowned. “Unless there were extenuating circumstances, I suppose. Like her family forced her to get engaged but she loved someone else, or-”

“But you’re not,” Fitz interrupted worriedly.

“Of course not! Why should I have to give up my career and my dreams for some man?”

“Wait, why would you have to do that?”

“That’s exactly my point,” Jemma said triumphantly, her torchlight sweeping across the wall again.

Fitz wasn’t sure he entirely understood her point, but he was also sure he’d just seen something odd on the wall beside where Jemma was sitting. “Jemma.” He reached out and gently grasped her wrist, redirecting the light back to the wall. A stylized figure of a man was kneeling at the base of their sarcophagus, his hands extended like he was tucking something underneath it. Or in it. Except that part should be solid stone. “That’s not in any texts I’ve ever seen.” He frowned.

“Nor I,” Jemma said. She pointed her torch at the real sarcophagus. “You don’t suppose-”

“That there’s a hidden compartment?” Fitz was already moving to kneel at the base of the sarcophagus, looking back toward the wall to try and gauge where the figure was in relation to it.

“A bit further to the left,” Jemma instructed, her face just inches from the wall carving. “By the god that looks vaguely like Anubis, even though his head is wrong.”

Fitz followed her instructions, his hand trailing across the solid stone surface, except…he moved his fingertips back a smidge and felt the tiny, telltale line in the stone where two pieces came together. “Found something.”

Jemma hurried to his side, training the flashlight on his hands as he felt around, looking for a mechanism or a trigger that might release the hidden compartment. “What do you think it is?” Jemma whispered, her lips practically touching his ear.

“Could be anything,” Fitz said, trying to focus. “But based on the reason we’re here…”

“It’s our mystery artifact,” Jemma finished.

Something clicked under Fitz’s fingers and a drawer smoothly rolled out. Fitz held his breath as Jemma crowded up beside him and directed the torchlight into it, her other hand clutching his arm excitedly.

They both stared for a moment. “It looks like a rock,” Jemma said, sounding puzzled.

Fitz gingerly touched the surface of it, finding it smooth and mostly unremarkable despite the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “It wouldn’t be hidden away like this if it was just another rock.”

“What about the map leading to Cairo?”

“Maybe we’re supposed to take it to Cairo?” Fitz guessed.

“You know what this means,” Jemma breathed.

“We’ve found what everyone’s looking for,” Fitz said, turning to grin at her. She flung her arms around his neck, smiling up at him, and his eyes fastened on her mouth. “Jemma…”

Whatever he’d been going to say was lost as she kissed him.

***

Perhaps it was a bit forward of her to kiss him without warning, but it really wasn’t fair of him to look so kissable after they’d made such a momentous discovery—not to mention agreeing that a woman shouldn’t have to be subservient to her husband in a marriage. It was quite refreshing.

And very attractive.

His lips were slightly rough after their day out in the sun but still fit perfectly against her own as she tentatively opened her mouth and ran her tongue along his bottom lip. Fitz let out a groan that, despite the heat, had her nipples standing to attention under her blouse. She pressed herself closer to him and he wrapped his arms around her waist, hauling her into his lap.

“Fitz,” she gasped, as he broke the kiss. Somewhere along the line, she’d let go of the torch, but she could still make out his features in the dim light. He reached up, cupping her cheek in one hand, and gazed at her just like he had the secret compartment earlier, with awe and a little bit of trepidation.

The memory of what they’d been doing last night before they were interrupted flitted through her brain and she wondered what would have happened if things had gone differently. Would he have taken off his shirt? Would he have removed hers? She wanted to feel his skin under her hands, and against her own, but Fitz had gone utterly still, silently observing her.

Jemma tugged on his shirt collar until he kissed her again, and this time she let her hands wander down his chest, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. “It’s very warm in here,” she murmured.

“It is,” Fitz replied distractedly.

His fingers trailed down her back and Jemma reached up to undo the top button of her blouse. Fitz’s eyes dropped down to her throat, his chest heaving, and then she reached out, biting her lip, and did the same to his top button. “We’ll have to be careful not to overheat.”

A smile ghosted across Fitz’s face. “You’re brilliant.”

“I know.”

Hesitantly, Fitz reached for the front of her blouse and undid a button, glancing up at her face questioningly. In response, Jemma leaned in to kiss him, opening her mouth and moaning as he gently stroked her tongue with his while she worked on the rest of his shirt buttons. She pushed the fabric off his shoulders, impatient to remove it so she could work on his undershirt next, but he was still slowly undoing the buttons of her blouse like he was savoring each one.

Jemma pulled back, short of breath, and glanced down as his hands parted her blouse to reveal her low-cut camisole. She heard his breath hitch and looked up, smiling as he carefully cupped one of her covered breasts. “Maybe we should get married,” he said.

Jemma blinked at him, her hand stilling. “What?” 

“I mean, uh…if you wanted, we could get married,” he said quickly. “You wouldn’t have to give up anything, I swear. And then we could…” His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Happiness bubbled up rather unexpectedly in her chest, and Jemma had a difficult time finding her voice. “You want to marry me?” she finally asked, wanting to be sure.

“Yes?”

She let out a laugh and pulled him in for another kiss, this one a little harder but no less sweet than the rest. Fitz looked stunned when she moved away, more determined than ever to get him out of his shirt.

“So, you will?” he asked, his hands curling around her waist.

“Yes, Fitz.”

His smile was blinding and she stopped her quest for a moment to admire it, only to find herself pinned against the sarcophagus as Fitz attacked the rest of her buttons while kissing her breathless. She was trying to wiggle out of her shirt and Fitz was working the strap of her camisole down, laying a line of kisses along her collarbone when a strange noise reached her ears. Jemma froze, and Fitz lifted his head. “What?”

She pressed a finger to his lips and glanced in the direction of the stone they’d found, feeling silly, but it was still lying inert in its hidden drawer, just like a rock should be. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.

Another noise, this time clearly coming from the ceiling, reverberated through the small space they were in. “I hear it,” Fitz said, gently tugging her shirt back up her arms. “Think that might be the rescue team.”

“Oh,” Jemma said, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice. A tiny beam of light shone down from the ceiling near the cave in.

“Jemma!” Daisy’s frantic voice called.

“I’m here,” Jemma called back. “We’re alright.”

Daisy said something indistinct and Jemma hastily began rebuttoning her blouse as Fitz set himself to rights beside her. He kept sneaking glances at her and she couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off her face, even if she hadn’t quite gotten his shirt off. There was always next time.

“Fitz!” Hunter shouted as more ceiling crumbled and the beam of light grew wider.

Fitz scrambled to his feet and Jemma followed suit. “Yeah?” He bent down to pluck the stone from its hidden drawer.

“You two stay back, alright?”

Fitz immediately reached for Jemma, and this time when he pulled her close and drew them into the far corner, she simply rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Promise me one thing?” she asked as a few good-sized chunks of stone rained down from the ceiling on the far side of the room.

“Anything,” Fitz murmured into her hair.

“You’ll let me protect you, too.”


	10. Luxor

Fitz had never been so relieved to see the stars shining overhead as he was while being hauled out of the tomb. Although nothing compared to the way Jemma’s face lit up as he sought her out before accepting Coulson’s backslap and trying to keep Hunter from cracking his ribs with a hug. The cool desert air raised gooseflesh on his arms, but the way she smiled warmed him down to his toes.

“You two are alright?” Coulson asked, looking toward where Jemma was being fussed over by Daisy and the others.

“A little worse for wear, but we’re fine,” Fitz confirmed, touching the lump on his temple. “What about all of you?” He looked around, but no one appeared to be missing.

“Had a couple close calls, but we’re good.” Coulson’s smile slipped off his face. “I’m afraid we didn’t manage to hang onto the artifact though, whatever it was. I need to get a telegram to Mack. Maybe we can intercept them somewhere or...”

“Sir,” Fitz interrupted. He was still clutching the rock they’d found, its surface oddly smooth under his hand, unlike most ancient stones. “I don’t think they have it.”

“What?” Coulson said, his brow furrowing. “Don’t think they have what?”

“Have what we were looking for.” Jemma joined them as he spoke, slipping her hand into Fitz’s. He ignored Hunter’s waggling eyebrows and held out the stone to Coulson. “We found it in the sarcophagus.”

“Fitz found it, really,” Jemma said, squeezing his hand. “He spotted the hieroglyphs that led us straight to it. There was also a map on the wall like the one May has.” Fitz straightened his shoulders, feeling quite chuffed, and wishing they were alone so he could kiss her again.

“Another map?” Coulson mused, taking the stone from Fitz and frowning at it. It seemed to almost absorb the moonlight, it was so dark. The edges were too crisp to be natural, but not quite sharp, as though they’d worn down with time. It was an odd thing to hide away, especially when the glowing blue object had been so obviously foreign.

“We think,” Jemma began, glancing at Fitz. He nodded at her, sure that what they’d discussed made as much sense as anything else. “Perhaps we’re meant to take this to Cairo.”

Coulson’s face screwed up in confusion. “And then what?”

Fitz shrugged as Jemma leaned against his side and reached up to comb his hair back away from his injured temple. “How is your head?” she murmured.

“It’s fine,” he assured her, capturing her hand and pressing a kiss to it.

“You took quite a knock, someone should stay with you tonight to make sure you’re alright.”

Fitz blinked at her, unsure if she was suggesting that someone be her, though, by the terrible fake coughing fit that suddenly overcame Hunter, he suspected she might be. “Erm.” Fitz tried to form a response, but he was a bit overcome by the images of her all cozied up in his bed flooding his brain. “Pyramids,” he finally blurted.

Coulson’s eyebrows lifted. “Pyramids?”

“Oh, honestly.” Jemma rolled her eyes. “It could be any number of ancient sites in Cairo. Just because the pyramids are the largest doesn’t make them the answer to everything.”

“Well, if you were looking to hide something in a place that would still be around in a few thousand years, what better place than the pyramids?” Fitz countered, frowning. 

“There is no indication that…”

“Um, not to be a wet blanket, but can we maybe have this argument somewhere that’s not in the middle of the desert?” Daisy asked.

“We’ve all earned a night off,” Coulson said. “Especially now that we know Ward might not have the real artifact. Nice work, you two.”

Jemma’s smile at the compliment knocked any remaining desire to argue right out of Fitz, transfixed by the face of the woman who’d agreed to be his wife. His brow furrowed. That is if she still wanted to marry him. She’d seemed rather against the idea of marriage before he’d proposed, and he really hadn’t done it properly. He didn’t even have a ring.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye while May and Coulson conferred about something, but Jemma just leaned against his shoulder, her fingers still entwined with his. She also hadn’t said a word about it since they’d emerged, which went against everything he’d heard about women and weddings, but Jemma wasn’t like any woman he’d ever met, so perhaps that wasn’t a useful guide.

“God,” Daisy sighed, “I am so ready to blow this joint.”

“I can’t believe everyone’s alright,” Jemma said. “It sounded horrible from where we were.”

“Oh, that was mostly me,” Daisy said with a sheepish smile. “May’s been teaching me to shoot, but I haven’t had a lot of practice.”

“I think you might have winged someone,” Piper said, coming to join them. “But otherwise, yeah, we’re going to need to work on your aim.”

Daisy’s smile widened. “Are we?”

“I can probably show you a thing or two.”

“Girls!” May called. “Time to go.”

Jemma gave Fitz’s hand a squeeze and brushed a kiss across his cheek. “I’ll find you in a bit.”

“Great,” Fitz said, hoping he sounded like a confident possible-fiancé and not a clueless idiot who wasn’t sure if they were engaged or not. 

He watched her walk away, barely resisting the urge to call her back before she was out of sight when a hand waved in front of his face. “Mate,” Hunter said. “Put your eyes back in your head. We’ll see them back at the hotel.”

“Hotel?” Fitz repeated blankly.

“You haven’t heard a word I said, have you?”

Fitz focused on his friend, frowning at the dried blood on the sleeve of Hunter’s shirt and the hastily tied bandana wrapped around his arm. “Daisy said no one got hurt.”

“I’m fine, it’s barely a scratch.” The edges of Hunter’s mouth lifted. “Bob’s fussed over it enough, I don’t need you turning into a mother hen, too. Come on, we’ve got to get the last few things from the camp before we go.”

Fitz climbed the ridge behind Hunter and took a moment to marvel at how quiet the desert was now that the others were out of earshot. “What happened?” he asked.

“Bloody Ward,” Hunter said, the name coming out as a growl. “Coulson knew him back during the war, before he was listed as M.I.A.”

“He’s not missing anymore.”

“And he’s definitely not on our side.”

“What are we going to do now?”

“We—as in Coulson and Mack and I—are going to take whatever that rock is back to the States and put it somewhere safe, which leaves you free to shack up with your bird.”

Fitz found himself strangely disappointed that his role in this expedition was coming to a close. “Oh.”

“Please tell me you realize she practically invited herself into your bed,” Hunter said.

Feeling his face flush, Fitz concentrated on keeping his footing while they descended a particularly tricky slope. “It’s not like that.”

“Of course not. I put a rubber in your shaving kit for when she doesn’t turn up at your door. You can thank me later.”

“No,” Fitz said, exasperated. “I meant, it’s not just that. I, um, I might have asked her to marry me.”

Hunter stumbled and pitched backward, catching himself on his hands halfway down the hill. “You did what? You’ve known her for ten minutes!”

“We’ve been corresponding for months! Just how long did you know your wife before you ran off and got married? A whole week?”

“Well, that’s entirely different. Bob’s special. And Edinburgh is a surprisingly romantic city.”

“For you, maybe, but I’ve never…Jemma’s perfect. I can’t lose her.”

Hunter picked himself back up and dusted off his trousers. “You’re serious about this.”

“I’m fairly certain getting engaged counts as serious, yes.”

“I guess congratulations are in order then.” Hunter clapped him on the shoulder. “We need to get you a ring.”

“I know.” Fitz raked his hand through his hair. “I’m going about this all wrong. I haven’t even asked her father.”

“I’d skip that bit, just a little piece of advice.”

“You didn’t ask Bobbi’s?”

“She almost took my head off when I suggested it.”

“Any other advice?”

Hunter tipped his head back, gazing at the stars overhead as what remained of their camp came into view. “Just…try to listen to what she’s not saying.”

“What?”

Hunter nodded at the camp. The sound of a distant motor car got louder. “You’ll do fine. Come on, let’s get this shite packed up so we can all sleep in real beds tonight.” A smirk crossed his face. “Well, some of us will get some sleep. Your fiancée seems to have other plans.”

***

The car was almost silent as it rattled over the dirt road toward Luxor with May behind the wheel.

Jemma was seated in the back with Daisy and Piper while Bobbi sat up front quietly helping May navigate through the darkness. By all accounts, their adventure was coming to an end, and yet Jemma’s mind was humming with possibilities. Shouldn’t they try to find out more about the mysterious object they’d found? At the very least it would be helpful to know where it came from. Perhaps there were some resources at the Egyptian Museum in Cairo that she and Fitz could use to investigate further.

Her first season in Egypt hadn’t really gone as she’d planned, but she wasn’t nearly ready for it to be over. For one thing, she hadn’t decided how she was going to break the news to her parents that she was getting married after all. That was going to come as a surprise. She glanced down at her bare left hand, rubbing the spot on her finger where a ring would go. She was still rather surprised herself.

Daisy nudged her with an elbow. “So, spill.”

“Hm?” Jemma looked up, startled.

“You and Fitz were trapped down there for a while. All alone, with no hope of rescue…”

“We were quite certain we’d be rescued, actually.”

“Jems.” Daisy quirked an eyebrow and Jemma ducked her head.

“Well, he did—after we found the hidden compartment, I mean, and discussed the map and some of its rather unfortunate shortcomings—Fitz, he….kind of proposed.”

Bobbi spun around in the front seat and Piper peered at her from the other side of Daisy, her eyes wide. “He did not,” Daisy gasped. “What did you say?”

Jemma blinked at her. “Yes?” Was there something else she was supposed to have said?

Daisy’s jaw dropped. “Jemma, you do know you can tip a few with a guy without having to get hitched. It’s not the nineteenth century. You barely know him!”

Jemma sighed. “Actually, we know each other quite well.” Piper put a hand over her mouth as Daisy let out a squeak. “Not like…oh for goodness sake,” Jemma said. “We’ve been exchanging letters for quite some time.”

“Wait a minute, those papers you were worried about on the ship were letters?” Daisy looked perplexed. “I thought they were just complicated archeological drawings and stuff.”

“Oh, a lot of them are. Fitz is quite clever,” Jemma assured her.

“But he was so surprised to meet you!”

“Yes, well, I might have…not informed him I was a woman, when we were corresponding.”

 Bobbi let out a laugh. “Yeah, that would be some surprise.”

“I didn’t expect to run into him in the middle of the nowhere!”

“Oh my gosh,” Daisy said, clasping her hands together. “This is totally fate.”

“It’s not…” Jemma exhaled slowly. “Oh, I don’t know. It just feels right.”

Bobbi brushed a hand over Jemma’s shoulder. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Jemma said, the knot in her stomach slowly loosening.

“Jemma,” May’s voice was soft, but it commanded the attention of everyone in the car. “Are you absolutely sure of him?”

Jemma swallowed, but the feeling inside her that told her she was right didn’t waver. She was aware that people might think they were being rather hasty, but it was quite the opposite. She was as sure of Fitz as she was about accepting the head archeologist position on this expedition, strange as it’d turned out to be. “Yes,” she said firmly.

May nodded once. “Then I’m happy for you both.”

Daisy let out a squeal and pulled Jemma in for a hug before letting her go. “This is so keen! First, we totally outsmarted that guy Coulson knows and now there’s going to be a wedding! Are you guys getting married here? You should get married here, since it’s where you met, and we totally have time now!”

“Daisy,” May said, sounding amused.

“What man Coulson knows?” Jemma asked.

Bobbi’s expression turned serious. “The guy after this thing is someone Coulson knew from the war. We’re not sure who he’s working for, but based on what happened tonight, they’re probably not the good guys.” She gave Jemma a small smile. “But there’ll be time to worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, we’re sleeping in real beds and I, for one, cannot wait.”

Jemma reached up to touch the mess that had once been her updo, also glad they were heading to a hotel for the evening. She was dying for a bath, and then she was going to track down her wayward fiancé. There were still a few things left for them to discover, and this time she’d be sure there were no interruptions. 

***

Fitz collapsed back on his bed with a groan. His head hurt and his neck was stiff but the bath had done wonders for the rest of his aches and pains. He hadn’t expected a dig to be quite this full of excitement. Or explosions and gunfire. 

Grabbing a pillow, he stuffed it under his head and closed his eyes, knowing he still had to get up to turn off the light but unable to find the energy to move. The soft mattress under him was like heaven after weeks on a rickety cot. It was nearly perfect, if only Jemma were here with him. He’d considered knocking on the door of the hotel room assigned to her and Daisy, but he didn’t want to disturb them if they were already sleeping.

He sighed and shifted on the bed, his hand straying down toward the waistband of his pajama bottoms. The sight of Jemma’s breasts, pale and lovely and spilling out of the top of her camisole, flitted through his brain, waking up certain parts of his anatomy that were apparently very far from tired.

A knock at the door startled him out of his reverie, and he pulled his hand back with a jerk, cursing under his breath. Pushing himself up, Fitz got to his feet and walked slowly toward the door as whoever it was knocked again, a little more insistently this time. “Hang on,” he growled.

He fumbled with the lock for a moment before opening the door, and then he lost complete control of his vocal cords.

“Hello,” Jemma said, smiling. She was wearing a robe made of some material that clung to every curve and yet somehow revealed nothing. Her hair was down and tucked behind her ears and he wanted nothing more than to run his hands through it. She was a vision. “Can I come in?”

Fitz nodded dumbly and managed to step back without tripping over his own feet. His tongue felt too big for his mouth. She moved into the room and closed the door behind her with a soft click. “Piper’s a refugee, since Hunter and Bobbi are apparently making up again, so I told Daisy I’d see about staying with you, if that’s alright.” She tilted her head questioningly as Fitz tried to find his voice, coming closer and laying her hands on his chest. “Is that alright?”

He swallowed thickly. “Yes?”

Jemma beamed. “Lovely. I’m glad that’s settled. Now,” she sashayed past him and settled on the end of his bed, “what do you think we ought to do about the stone?”

“The…stone?” Fitz repeated, his mind slowly kicking back into gear. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s clear you and I are the best people to research it, with our backgrounds and intellect, and I do believe Mr. Coulson could use our help. Don’t you think?”

“I…yes, actually,” Fitz said, slightly stunned.

“Excellent. I was thinking perhaps we could request to view the archives at the Egyptian Museum, there must be something about the mysterious tomb we’ve found recorded somewhere, and then we could-”

“Jemma,” Fitz cut her off, unable to wait any longer. “I know I didn’t ask properly before, and I still don’t have a ring, but I just wanted to be sure…” He took a breath, his heart constricting as she stared, her eyes wide and dark and so lovely he was sure he would drown in them.

“Sure of what?”

“You. Us, I mean.” Fitz shook his head, frustrated with his lack of articulation. Jemma had a puzzled expression on her face and her robe was gaping open in the front just enough to reveal a pale strip of skin, making it nearly impossible for him to concentrate. This was going even worse than the first time he’d asked her.

“Us?” Jemma said. “Of course I’m sure, Fitz. I doubt I’d ever find someone half as compatible.” A crease appeared between her brows. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“What? No!” Fitz said hastily. He took a breath and crossed the room, dropping to his knees by the bed and gazing up into her face. “I definitely have not changed my mind.” Her hands were resting in her lap and he reached out to take them, his knuckles skimming across the silky material of her robe. She was warm and soft and bloody gorgeous. If he’d known this was the woman waiting for him at the other end of those letters all those months ago, he would have been on the next train to London.

“Good,” Jemma said softly. “Because neither have I.”

“You haven’t,” Fitz said, relief flowing through him.

“Certainly not.” Jemma trailed a fingertip along his jawline and Fitz leaned into her touch. “I’m actually quite looking forward to marrying you.” She bent down, brushing a kiss across his lips and Fitz surged upward, seeking more.

The happy noise she made against his mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck was the sweetest music he’d ever heard until he slid his hands up her silk-covered thighs and she let out a moan. She was nipping at his lips and tongue, boldly exploring his mouth while tugging insistently on his shirt and it took everything he had to pull away, panting. “Jemma, are you sure you-”

She cut off his question with a kiss, guiding his hand to the sash holding her robe closed. “Very sure,” she gasped.

The material parted almost like magic under his trembling hand and she lay back on the bed, pulling him with her. Her hair was pooled around her head like a halo and the nightdress she had on was made of the same clinging silk, outlining her breasts in loving detail. He nearly forgot how to breathe as he hovered over her, drinking everything in while she tugged his shirt off.

“There you are,” she murmured, sliding her hands down his chest and biting her lip. He moved to kiss her again, unable to stop touching, and settled between her legs as she arched up under him. Every nerve ending he had was singing, and he felt almost dizzy with happiness. “Fitz,” she whispered in his ear, shrugging off one strap of her nightdress to reveal a dusky pink nipple. “Please.”

He cupped her breast, a thrill running straight to his prick, and groaned as her hand slipped under the waistband of his pajama bottoms. He couldn’t stop marveling over the fact that she’d agreed to be his, and that she wanted him to be hers.

It was better than any adventure he could imagine.


	11. Breakfast

Jemma woke up slowly, feeling unexpectedly warm and cozy. It took her a moment to get her bearings and for her fuzzy mind to realize that the weight draped across her hips wasn’t a book or a quilt to ward off the desert chill.

It was the arm of her brand-new fiancé.

She cracked open one eye, admiring the tanned expanse of throat filling her vision, and snuggled a little closer to Fitz. He mumbled under his breath and his arm tightened briefly before he relaxed again. His curls were sticking up every which way, and his eyelashes were fanned across his cheeks, his lips slightly parted. 

Letting out a contented sigh, Jemma closed her eyes again. Last night had been…well, it was about as close to perfect as she imagined it could be, since she’d never done anything like that before and she suspected Fitz hadn’t either. The most wonderful part was knowing they’d have plenty of time to learn, together. She tilted her head up, running the tip of her nose along the line of Fitz’s jaw, and he shifted in his sleep, still holding her close. She’d never thought a person could make her feel as though she was glowing from the inside, like she was something rare and precious.

And stalwart, like the pyramids themselves. 

She and Fitz had work to do, if they were going to help May and Mr. Coulson. They were all in this together. She’d been a bit too distracted by his kisses—and the rest of him—last night to continue their discussion, but the light of morning reminded her that they had a job to do.

Perhaps after a little more kissing, now that she finally understood what all the fuss was about. Jemma pressed kisses against his throat, listening as his breathing changed and he began to wake. The pleasant rough-scratch of his stubble made her lips tingle as she slowly worked her way up to his cheek, and he mumbled, turning his face towards hers and clumsily meeting her mouth. He hummed happily, and his hand slid down to squeeze her bum, making her smile.

“Morning,” she whispered.

Fitz shushed her, not opening his eyes. “Let me dream a little longer.”

Jemma almost laughed. “Fitz.”

He cracked open one eye, the blue startlingly clear in the morning light. “You’re really here?”

“Of course I’m here.”

“Maybe I should make sure,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her slow and sweet.

Jemma melted against him, quite happy to know she’d be waking up like this every morning. It startled her to think that she already couldn’t imagine her life without him, when barely a week ago they still hadn’t met. What would have happened if she hadn’t managed to get to Egypt, if May hadn’t found her? Would they have simply exchanged letters for years, never knowing how perfectly they fit together?

Perhaps there was a little something to Daisy’s fate idea after all. Not that Jemma would ever admit that; she’d never live it down.

She slid a hand into Fitz’s curls as he pulled away, his hand sweeping up her side and cupping her breast. “This all seems in order,” he murmured, his voice sleep-rough.

This time Jemma did laugh, even as heat pooled in her belly. She tangled her legs with his and arched against his hand. “Nothing’s wandered off in the night?” 

“Exploration should never be rushed,” Fitz said. His expression was serious but the glint in his eye made Jemma’s breath catch in her throat.

“Certainly not.”

The smile he gave her was absolutely beautiful, and she decided work could wait. He pressed a string of kisses across her collarbone, which was quite enjoyable, and the ache between her legs began to feel less like a reminder of what they’d done last night and more of an urge to repeat it.

Despite the fact that virginity was a silly social construct that had no bearing on a woman’s value, Jemma did feel like something had shifted inside her. Like she’d come a little more alive. The gentle scrape of Fitz’s stubble against her chest had her nipples standing to attention and she moaned as his mouth found her breast, clutching the back of his head.

Their discussion about what they should do next could wait, she supposed, since Coulson’s former friend-turned-enemy didn’t have the artifact she and Fitz had discovered last night. Jemma smiled, cracking her eyes open and tugging Fitz up until she could kiss his mouth again. They were like the Petries, discovering all sorts of wonderful things together.

“Jemma,” Fitz murmured against her lips. She could feel his arousal pressing against her thigh and a thrill ran through her at the thought that it was all for her.

Research plans could definitely wait.

***

“Here they are,” Hunter said with a wink as Fitz and Jemma entered the hotel’s morning room. “Thought we might have to send out a search party.”

Fitz felt his face flush, but he knew he was grinning like a fool. Spots of pink appeared on Jemma’s cheeks and she clutched his hand a little tighter. It wasn’t as though Hunter had any room to talk, with Bobbi perched in his lap while she drank what Fitz imagined was more terrible American coffee and perused the morning paper. Luckily, it looked like the more civilized among them had also ordered tea, and the pot was still on the table.

“Good morning to you, too,” Fitz said pointedly, claiming two empty chairs and waiting for Jemma to sit before settling into his own.

“Sleep well?” Daisy asked. The pink in Jemma’s cheeks spread down her throat as Piper giggled into her cup and Bobbi finally looked up, rolling her eyes.

“May said to order whatever we want for breakfast, so help yourselves.”

“Where is she?” Jemma asked, sounding grateful for the change of subject. Fitz reached for a teacup only to have Jemma slide a full one in front of him, followed by the sugar bowl. He was sure the smile he gave her must have been exceptionally soppy, because Hunter snorted against Bobbi’s shoulder, but Fitz couldn’t bring himself to care. Jemma had agreed to be his wife, so he was allowed to be as soppy as he pleased.

“She and Coulson went to make travel arrangements. They should be back soon,” Piper said.

“For all of us?” Jemma asked, her spoon clinking gently against the sides of her cup.

“Yes, we’re heading back to Cairo,” Bobbi confirmed.

“Oh, excellent,” Jemma said. “I think, now that we have a little more to go on, Fitz and I should be able to do some research at the museum there about what we’ve found.”

Bobbi set the paper down. “Jemma, I’m sure you’ve done enough, we couldn’t ask you to put yourself in any more danger.”

Jemma straightened her shoulders and her eyes narrowed, making Fitz’s stomach flutter in admiration. “You’re not asking, I’m volunteering.” She glanced at Fitz and he nodded. “We’re volunteering. We’ve already discussed it. Whatever this thing is, it’s clearly important and we’re certainly the most qualified persons to try and learn more about it.” Fitz reached over and took her hand again, slotting their fingers together and earning himself a sweet smile. Christ, she was gorgeous and smart and more determined than anyone he knew. He was a lucky man.

“Fitz,” Hunter said, frowning. “I told you we could take it from here.” One of his shirtsleeves bulged slightly from the bandages underneath, reminding Fitz of their close call last night. Still, it wasn’t as though he or Jemma were going to abandon their friends or their discovery just because of a little danger. Surely the worst was over.

Jemma made an irritated noise and Fitz’s pressed a hand to the top of her knee in reassurance. “Jemma and I want to help,” he said. “And it seems like you could probably use all the help you can get.”

“We can-” Hunter began.

“Babe,” Bobbi sighed. “You know he’s got a point.”

Hunter slumped back in his chair. “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it,” Bobbi said, picking up a pastry of some kind from a plate in the center of the table. “It’s not entirely up to you. And Jemma’s right, they are the best people to help us find out more about that rock."

“Thank you,” Jemma said.

“But Hunter’s right, too,” Bobbi replied seriously. “From everything I’ve heard, Ward’s pretty dangerous.”

“Can you repeat the part about me being right?” Hunter said. “Just for posterity.”

Bobbi elbowed him. “I might be stuck with this idiot, but you two can always head home.” Her eyes softened. “Plan your wedding, your future. I know Coulson and May would agree.” Hunter’s arm curled around her waist and Bobbi leaned back against him, offering him some of her pastry.

“Idiot?” he murmured.

“My idiot,” Bobbi said fondly.

Hunter sighed loudly before accepting a bite, looking happier and more relaxed than Fitz had ever seen, even when they’d been three sheets to the wind. After spouting all that nonsense about how terrible marriage was, Hunter certainly didn’t seem to be very opposed to it.

Fitz glanced over at Jemma, who was stirring her tea while absentmindedly drawing circles on the back of his hand, and a wave of affection rolled over him. Waiting until they returned home to marry seemed a frightfully long way away, and there was still a little niggling worry in the back of his head that she might change her mind, given enough time. It amazed him that she’d agreed in the first place.

After last night…well, before last night he would have done anything to make her happy, but now he was sure he’d do anything for her full stop. She’s been equal parts siren and maiden, and a heady mix of inexperience and desire had driven Fitz to explore every inch of her while cataloging her moans and sighs.

This morning, however, might have been his absolute favorite moment. Waking up with Jemma in his arms was not something he ever wanted to go without. The fact that she’d seemed just as enamored to find him there beside her had seemed almost unbelievable.  

Fitz ran his thumb over Jemma’s bare fingers. He really needed to find her a ring.

“Good,” a voice said behind him, making Fitz jump. “You’re up.” Coulson dropped a stack of tickets on the table and pulled out a chair for May. Fitz watched, his eyebrows inching up, as she regarded the proffered seat for a long moment before taking it. Coulson looked rather pleased with himself as he sat down on her other side and snagged a pastry from a plate. “We wanted to talk to you and Simmons.”

May caught Fitz’s eye and he froze as she carefully examined him, then Jemma. Apparently satisfied with what she found, she reached for the teapot. “I hope your room was adequate.”

Daisy choked on her pastry and Piper patted her back, her lips pressed together as she struggled not to smile. Jemma’s face was a lovely shade of pink again. “Yes, quite,” Jemma said.

“No sign of Ward,” Coulson said, picking up a carafe and pouring himself a cup of thick, dark liquid. Fitz wrinkled his nose and took a sip of his far superior tea. “I’d like to think he’s distracted enough by whatever it was he took yesterday to overlook keeping an eye on us anymore, but he was trained better than that. We can’t assume he’s given up.”

“Trained?” Jemma said.

Coulson’s shoulders slumped. “By me.”

“He’s clearly gone off the rails,” Hunter grumbled. “You can’t blame yourself.”

“Nevertheless,” May said. “We need to take some precautions. Jemma, we’ve gotten you and Fitz tickets on the afternoon train back to Cairo. We’ll have someone meet you there and arrange for steamer tickets home.”

“But…” Fitz found himself at a loss for words.

Jemma dropped her pastry. “What!” she gasped in outrage.

Coulson looked surprised. “This has gotten much more dangerous than anyone anticipated and-”

“Yes, it bloody well has!” Jemma said. “And that’s why we’re not going anywhere.”

Fitz could have kissed her if it weren’t for their audience. Instead, he contented himself with pressing his knee against hers under the table.

Coulson darted a look at Fitz, his brow furrowing, but Fitz shook his head. “Jemma and I already talked about it. You need our help. We’re in this together, and we’re seeing it through. We can’t just walk away.”

Coulson blew out a frustrated breath and took a long drink of his coffee, eyeing Daisy and Piper across the table. “Don’t even think about it,” Piper said, her eyes narrowing. “You’re stuck with me, boss.”

“And me,” Daisy said, arching an eyebrow.

Coulson rubbed his temple.

“Uh, what about me and Bob?” Hunter said. Coulson leaned back in his chair, apparently surprised, but Hunter pressed on. “You’ve got enough backup,” he said. “And it’ll force Ward to split his attention. He knows who we work for. He won’t want to risk not following to see what we’re up to.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Coulson said. He turned back to Fitz and Jemma. “That means a trip up the Nile for the rest of us.”

Jemma clasped her hands in front of her, eyes glowing. “Oh, how lovely.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of more difficult to infiltrate, but I guess it’s not a terrible way to travel,” Coulson chuckled.

May nudged Coulson’s coffee cup out of the way and laid her map out on the table, turning to Jemma. “You said there was a map like this in the tomb?”

Jemma closed her eyes briefly and Fitz took a moment to hunt through his pockets for something to write with. He was already coming to appreciate her prodigious memory for these sorts of things. When her eyelids fluttered open, he was able to present her with a stub of pencil, and the grateful smile she gave him made his heart glow.

“It was the wrong way round,” Jemma mused, turning May’s map to match. Cairo was now at the bottom and the Nile was flowing south. She took the pencil from Fitz and, with a questioning glance at May, made a mark in the approximate location of the place near Cairo the tomb map had indicated that this map didn’t include. “I think we’re supposed to go here.”

Coulson leaned forward. “Near the pyramids, right?”

Jemma rolled her eyes and picked up the map, jabbing her finger at the dot that was Cairo. “The city is enormous and absolutely stuffed with ancient sites. This isn’t a detailed enough map for us to know for sure.”

“It’s probably the pyramids,” Fitz said.

“Oh, honestly.”

He grinned and reached for the map. “I expect you to admit I’m right once we get there.”

“You’re impossible.” The corners of Jemma’s mouth twitched, letting Fitz know she wasn’t entirely mad at him, but the way her eyes flashed was more thrilling than he’d expected. And he was going to get to argue with her for the rest of their lives.

Something about the map caught his eye, and Fitz frowned, his fingers stilling on one corner.

Jemma’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”

“Can you…” Fitz tugged her hand up so the morning light slanting through the window caught the paper she was holding, making Jemma inhale sharply.

“Fitz,” she said, sounding awed.

“What is that?” May asked, squinting at the map.

Fitz leaned in closer, but the lines revealed by the sunlight remained weak and unreadable. “I don’t know,” he said.

“I think…” Jemma said, turning the map over in her hands. She inspected the edge of the paper, fiddling with one corner. Her eyes widened as she managed to tease two distinct layers apart. “Fitz,” she breathed.

Feeling the weight of everyone’s stares, Fitz caressed the inside of Jemma’s wrist. “There’s something under the map,” he said quietly.

“You’re a genius,” Jemma said. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips, startling him. Fitz’s breathing hitched, but he quickly regained his equilibrium, dropping one hand to her hip and pulling her closer. She tasted like tea and sweet pastries and it wasn’t until someone loudly cleared their throat that Fitz remembered they weren’t alone.

He broke the kiss reluctantly, admiring the flush creeping over Jemma’s skin, and brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. “Do you think we can separate them without any damage?”

A shadow crossed over Jemma’s face just before she smiled at him, her whole face alight. “Yes, I think so.”

“Great,” Coulson said. “You work on that. I’m going to get all our things transferred to the boat, and you two,” he nodded at Hunter and Bobbi, “come with me. We’ve got some bad guys to confuse, so let’s get started.”

Bobbi stood up, and Hunter, after a moment of grumbling, threw back the rest of his tea and rose as well. “Your arm feeling okay?” Fitz heard her ask softly.

“It’ll be good as new soon enough,” he murmured, rolling one shoulder.

Fitz lifted his eyebrows in question and Hunter leveled a look at Fitz that told him to mind his own business. Luckily, it seemed like Bobbi found Hunter’s deflection about at believable as Fitz, letting out an exasperated sigh as they followed Coulson out of the room.

Jemma was busy examining the map with May, but she leaned back towards Fitz, her expression serious. “We’re going to need a shallow tray and some warm water. I’ve seen this done before but never attempted it myself.”

“You’ll do great,” Fitz assured her.

***

“Almost ready?” Fitz called, coming into the sitting room of May’s suite where Jemma had been ensconced for the better part of an hour.

“I think so?” she said, feeling inexplicably nervous. “What if it doesn’t work?”

Fitz leaned down and brushed a kiss across her lips, making her heart flip in her chest. Jemma did appreciate how easily they’d transitioned from colleagues to a couple, still in sync but with a bit more delicious touching.

“It’ll work,” he said.

Jemma took a breath, trying to calm her nerves, and laid a thick towel down on the table next to where the map was soaking in a warm water bath. Carefully, with an assist from Fitz, she lifted the paper from the water and placed it on the towel.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” Fitz said with a confidence she wished she felt. Jemma reached for the corner of the map that was slightly curled, revealing the other paper underneath. His hand caught hers just before she touched it. “You know you’ve done an amazing job with this, no matter what happens, Jemma.”

“Oh god, you think I’ve ruined it.”

“No! That’s not…I don’t think that at all.” Fitz lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the tip of her fingers, warming her to her toes. It was really too bad they’d already given up their room in anticipation of boarding the boat that evening. “I have complete faith in you. I’m just sorry I haven’t been much help.”

“Fitz!” Jemma said, startled. “You noticed it in the first place, not to mention you found that stone earlier. We wouldn’t have anything to investigate at all if it weren’t for your exceptional observational skills.” She stepped closer to him, lifting on tiptoes and kissing him softly. “We make an excellent team.”

Fitz’s arms slid around her waist. “I’m also sorry we didn’t get to visit Karnak.”

“Next time?”

“Next time,” he confirmed, leaning in to kiss her again.

Jemma sighed against his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe for our honeymoon,” she murmured.

His whole face transformed, his expression shifting from hopeful to elated and Jemma shivered in anticipation as his hands slid down to cup her bum. “I think we could arrange that.”

“Jemma?” Daisy walked into the room, then squeaked and slapped a hand over her eyes. “Warn a gal!” she said. “Is it done?”

Reluctantly moving out of Fitz’s embrace, Jemma turned. “Is what…oh, the map!” She touched the paper, relieved to find it still pliable. Biting her lip, she slowly began to peel the top layer away, her heart in her throat as she revealed what was underneath. Neat lines and shapes appeared one by one until the last corner of the map lifted away and she could finally let out the breath she’d been holding. It was a simple drawing, but it didn’t look like another map, or any language she knew.

“What is it?” Daisy said, leaning over the table.

Jemma tilted her head and then looked up at Fitz, who shrugged. “We have no idea.”

Daisy made a face. “Great. Another mysterious quest.”


	12. The Nile

“Here’s thi-” Fitz almost dropped the bag he was holding as a couple of passengers walked by, and he opened his mouth just as Coulson gave a warning shake of his head.

He was sure it was them. There was no mistaking Mack, who towered over most of the others heading up the boat’s gangplank, and his wife, Elena, who tossed a wink at Fitz as they went past.

“Fitz?” Jemma peered at him in concern, taking the rucksack from him. “Are you alright?”

“I, uh, yes, of course. Fine.” He darted a look at Coulson, who apparently had no trouble pretending not to know his own colleagues. Of course, this whole cloak and dagger thing wasn’t new to him.

Fitz felt his stomach tying up in knots at the thought of lying to his wife-to be. He already missed Hunter, though he supposed following Hunter’s lead wasn’t always the best idea. He and Bobbi might have managed to make things work, but Fitz was rubbish at keeping things from Jemma. When she inevitably found out, she was going to call the engagement off, and he was going to die of a broken heart. A life without Jemma in it wasn’t something he could even conceive of anymore.

“Are you sure?” Jemma asked curiously. “Is it the boat?” Her expression changed to one of concern. “Did you have a bad experience on the way to Alexandria?”

“I…” Fitz jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder and attempted to return Coulson’s easy smile.

“Come on, we’ll take a stroll, get your sea legs back,” Coulson said.

“The river should be quite smooth,” Jemma said, a crease appearing between her brows.

“Great, then we won’t be long,” Coulson replied. Fitz avoided making eye contact with Jemma as Coulson dragged him off, heading for an upper deck that was nearly empty.

They leaned on the rail, watching the rest of the passengers arrive, and Fitz braced himself for a lecture. “Sir,” he began.

“I know,” Coulson said. “It’s not fair of me to ask, but I am anyway.”

“What?” Fitz turned toward his patron, surprised.   

“The fewer people who know they’re here, and connected to us, the more intel Mack and Elena can gather.”

“They’re here to help us watch for Ward,” Fitz said, understanding dawning. 

“And protect that stone, whatever it is,” Coulson said. “If he comes back for it, he could also come looking for the people who know the most about it.”

Fear slithered down Fitz’s spine. “Like Jemma,” he said.

“And you,” Coulson confirmed. “Mack’s here to make sure that doesn’t happen, and we make his job a hell of lot easier if we keep that under our hats.”

Fitz’s hands tightened around the railing. “You’re asking me to lie to Jemma.”

“I’m asking you to help me and Mack keep everyone safe.” 

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Fitz stared down at the top of Jemma’s head. The chestnut strands of her hair were escaping their confines in the river breeze and catching the last rays of sunlight. He’d do anything to keep her safe. “Yeah, alright.”

“Thank you, Fitz.” Coulson was looking down at the rest of their party, too, his face serious.

Fitz followed his gaze. “Does May know he’s here?”

Coulson shook his head. “Only you, me, and Piper. Let’s hope this little decoy idea of Hunter’s keeps Ward distracted. Once we get back to Cairo things should settle down.”

“Let’s hope,” Fitz muttered.

***

Something had been niggling at the back of Jemma’s mind since they’d uncovered the strange drawing hidden beneath May’s map, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It’d make itself known soon enough, she supposed, and in the meantime, she had plenty of other things to occupy her time.

“Hold still,” Daisy said sternly around a mouthful of pins.

Like that fact that her friend was wielding several tiny, sharp objects and wasn’t afraid to use them. Jemma consciously relaxed her shoulders and tried not to fidget as a waft of air hit her knees. “Are you sure this is necessary?”

“This is definitely necessary,” Daisy replied. “It should be a crime to hide gams like yours.”

“It’s not too short?” Jemma asked nervously. Her mother would have a fit if she could see Jemma now, all dolled up in Daisy’s American clothes that revealed both her shoulders _and_ her knees. The dress was covered in intricate beadwork that caught the light, shimmering every time Jemma moved. She’d never thought fashion could be quite so fun.

Daisy snorted. “Definitely not. You should see what they’re wearing in Paris!”

Piper was lounging on the bed, her suit jacket discarded, and her shirtsleeves rolled up. She watched them, smiling. “You’re going to knock his socks off,” she said.

Jemma blushed as she relived the way Fitz had looked at her last night after she’d gathered the courage to knock on his bedroom door in her nightclothes. He certainly hadn’t minded her turning up rather informally dressed then, and it had produced very pleasant results.

“When were you in Paris?” Piper asked.

Daisy glanced over her shoulder, and deftly pinned the hem of the dress she’d declared Jemma would be wearing to dinner. “Last summer. May decided we should do a European tour.”

“Oh, did you visit the Acropolis?” Jemma asked excitedly. “Or the Roman Colosseum?”

“I think the second one? Honestly, all those old buildings kind of run together after a while.” Daisy wrinkled her nose and Piper smothered a laugh as Jemma made an indignant noise. “But Paris was my favorite.” She glanced up at Jemma. “The Eiffel Tower is pretty keen.”

“That’s practically brand new,” Jemma pointed out.

“Not all of us are into ancient piles of rocks like you and Fitz.” Daisy laughed and pinned up another section of Jemma’s dress.

“He does have a wonderful appreciation for history, doesn’t he?”

“Uh huh,” Daisy said, her eyes twinkling. “And an appreciation for a certain someone, too.”

Jemma bit her lip, smiling. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the room and pulled her hair up, twisting it at the nape of her neck. “Do you think he’d like my hair short?”

“I think he’d like anything when it comes to you,” Piper snorted.

“You would look great with a bob.” Daisy beamed at her. “Now shimmy out of that so I can raise the hem.”

Jemma obediently did as she was told, leaving her in just her slip while Daisy got to work, her hand flying across the fabric and her stitches so fine and neat they seemed to disappear before Jemma’s eyes. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Daisy shrugged, concentrating on the dress draped across her lap. “The nuns wanted us all to know a trade, and I liked working with my hands.”

“Did you make that dress?” Jemma said, startled.

“This is just one I altered,” Daisy glanced up, smiling. “But yeah, I’ve made most of my favorite pieces, and May’s.”

“That’s amazing,” Piper said admiringly.

 Daisy’s cheeks pinkened as she worked. “It’s nothing, really. It just makes sense, when I’m looking at clothes, to think about how they’ve been put together so I can try and improve on it.”

“That’s still amazing,” Piper laughed. “Paris has got some competition.”

Daisy nudged Piper’s knee with her arm. “Don’t think you’re getting out of letting me get my hands on some of your suits.”

“Looking forward to it.” Piper grinned, and Daisy blushed harder.

Jemma fiddled with her hair, sitting at the dressing table and watching them chat in the mirror as she tucked the ends under and pinned it so it resembled a bob like Daisy’s.

The more she learned about everyone on this trip, the more remarkable it seemed that they’d all fallen in together so easily. Jemma hadn’t had many friends before, though she knew quite a lot of people back in London. It was lovely to feel so comfortable and…free. She didn’t have to pretend to be anyone she wasn’t, or bite her tongue to keep from upsetting yet another fragile male ego and ruining one her mother’s dinner parties again.

She didn’t want this adventure to end at all, she realized, startled.

“There,” Daisy said, holding up the dress. She winked at Jemma. “Fitz isn’t going to know what hit him.”

Jemma swiveled around, sticking a final pin in her hair. “Do you think you could help me find a suitable wedding gown?” she asked, feeling inexplicably shy.

Daisy’s eyes lit up. “Jems, we’ll find you a perfect gown.”

There was a knock at the door and May peeked her head in. “Ready for dinner?”

“Almost.” Tossing Jemma her dress, Daisy stood up and smoothed down her own. It was similar to Jemma’s, though the back plunged daringly, and the beads were all shades of pink and purple instead of the silver and navy worked into Jemma’s. Tugging the dress back on, Jemma slipped on her shoes and Daisy snagged a silver headband off the dressing table, tying it around the crown of Jemma’s head with a flourish. “There, perfect.”

Jemma laughed and accepted Piper’s arm as they went into the narrow hall. Daisy was tucked against Piper’s other side and May led the way to the dining room, her own dress a shade of purple so deep it was almost black.

Fitz stood up the moment they entered the room, his smile lighting a fire somewhere deep inside Jemma as she drank him in, though she didn’t miss the way Mr. Coulson held May’s chair for her or the way the corners of May’s mouth twitched up in acknowledgment.

“You look…” Fitz trailed off, his eyes wide.

“You like it?” Jemma touched a hand to her hair and butterflies took flight in her stomach. Perhaps she shouldn’t care about a man’s opinion on her dress, but Fitz wasn’t just any man, and she found herself wanting to know his opinions on just about everything. His perspective on building methods had been quite eye-opening, after all.

The little niggling thought that’d been teasing at the edges of her mind almost came into focus, but then Fitz held out his hand. Jemma laid her fingers across his palm, remembering how those hands had held her that very morning, sliding over her skin and eliciting impassioned responses she hadn’t known she was capable of. A delicious shiver ran up her arm.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Jemma’s smile was so wide it almost hurt. “Thank you.” He looked rather dashing himself, wearing a suit jacket just a smidge too tight across the shoulders. Mr. Coulson was wearing a bowtie he must have unearthed from somewhere, but Fitz’s collar was unadorned with one button undone. Jemma fought the urge to lean over and bury her face against his throat. “You look very nice, too.”

Fitz glanced down and shook his head. “I’m a mess, but it doesn’t matter.” He smiled at her again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t think anyone’s going to be looking at me.”

Jemma accepted the chair he held for her and took his hand the moment he sat beside her, drawing it into her lap. It was a shame they had to get through an entire dinner before she could kiss him again.

Perhaps they could skip dessert.

***

Fitz knew he would be hard-pressed to name anything they’d had at dinner tonight, but this—the image of Jemma’s face lit solely by stars and moon as they gazed out over the rail at the bank of the Nile sliding past—he was going to remember forever.

She’d kept hold of his hand through the entire meal and the heat of her thigh combined with the expanse of skin her dress revealed was distraction enough to derail any train of thought his brain attempted that didn’t revolve around getting her alone. She’d excused them just after the main course, mentioning something about research, but he hadn’t been listening very closely. He was also fairly sure no actual research was going to happen once he had Jemma all to himself.

Coulson hadn’t batted an eyelash when Fitz had moved his things across the hall into Jemma’s room the moment the porters had dropped it all off after boarding. Piper and Daisy had claimed the room next to Jemma’s, leaving May alone in the one next to what had been Coulson and Fitz’s.  Maybe it wasn’t entirely proper, but Fitz didn’t relish the thought of sleeping alone now that he knew what it was like to wake up next to his wife-to-be. At least Hunter wasn’t around to rib him about it.

“How do you think Bobbi and Hunter are getting on?” Jemma asked like she could read his mind. Frankly, Fitz wasn’t sure she couldn’t.

“Just fine,” Fitz assured her. “Hunter is all hot air when it comes down to it. His heart’s in the right place.”

Jemma shivered and tucked her herself against his side, clasping his hand. “I hope they’re alright. It was quite brave of them to volunteer to do that.”

Fitz snorted and shrugged out of his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders and then pulling her into an embrace. “Knowing Hunter, he’ll be disappointed if no one tries to start a fight with him.”

Jemma laughed, and Fitz imagined the gentle noise carrying across the water and wending through the palms lining the river, just as surely a part of the land as the bits of stone and cloth buried under the sand. He hadn’t considered before just how much love was entombed in the surrounding desert, the careful wrappings, funeral shrouds and reliefs done not just for the ancient Queens and Pharaohs but for other, more ordinary Egyptians whose families hoped to keep their memories alive for all eternity.

Fitz nuzzled Jemma’s temple as she leaned into him, breathing in her sweet scent. She’d be pleased to hear he was coming around to her point of view about the importance of the bodies left behind as well as the magnificent structures.

“It’s a shame we won’t be stopping to see Abydos,” Jemma sighed. “The temple is supposed to be quite spectacular.”

“Is that the one with that list of Pharoh’s names?”

“It is.”

“We’ll stop there on our honeymoon, too.”

“We’re going on quite the tour.”

“What better way to celebrate?” Fitz lifted one shoulder. “Besides, I’m rather fond of traveling Egypt with you.”

“It’s been nice, hasn’t it?” Jemma said, sounding almost wistful.

“Aside from the explosions, yes it has.”

She laughed again, and Fitz kissed her cheek, pleased that he’d made her happy.

“Besides that, but meeting everyone, working together...it’s all been nice.”

“Yes, that too.” Fitz ran the tip of his nose over the shell of her ear, feeling her shiver, though he hoped it wasn’t from the chill this time. She’d made some amazing noises this morning when he’d paid special attention to her neck and he wanted to see if he could get her to make them again soon.

Jemma turned in his arms and tipped her face up, her skin milky in the moonlight. “Very nice indeed,” she murmured, her hands smoothing down the fabric of his shirt. “Shall we turn in for the night?”

Something caught his eye just as Fitz opened his mouth to reply, and he tensed as a figure emerged from the shadows down the deck from where they were standing. Jemma’s brow furrowed but before Fitz could warn her, the man walked under a lamp, revealing his face.

It was only Mack.  

Fitz’s shoulders sagged in relief, though Jemma still appeared confused. “What is it?” she whispered, looking around. “Do you know him?”

“Uh, no?” Fitz said, hoping he sounded believable. “He doesn’t match the description of Ward, either.”

“True,” Jemma said. She stepped away from him and took his hand. “Still, better safe than sorry, come on.”

Fitz was more than happy to let her lead him back to the room, and their bed.

***

Jemma woke up with her face tucked against Fitz’s shoulder and her heart beating a rapid staccato in her chest. She lifted her head, frowning, but the room was still dark and there weren’t even the wisps of a disturbing dream clinging to the edges of her mind to explain her sudden wakefulness.

Something thumped in the corridor and she jumped, her eyes going wide. Jemma sat up, pulling the blankets with her, and eyed their door. It seemed quite a flimsy thing, now that it was all that stood between her and whoever was in the hall. Maybe they should have pushed something up against it as a precaution.

Another thump sounded, this one followed by a muffled oath, and Jemma began to grope around the bedclothes in search of her nightgown. “Fitz,” she whispered.

Fitz frowned and mumbled under his breath, burrowing under the quilt until his head connected with her hip. He let out a contented sigh, his arm slinging over her legs, and Jemma ran a hand over his curls, wishing she could just cuddle back up with him and ignore whatever was going on outside their room.

Something banged against their door and Jemma jumped again, squeaking, and hastily pulling her nightgown over her head as Fitz moved again.

“What’s wrong?” he asked sleepily, gazing up at her.

“Someone’s outside,” she hissed.

“What?” Fitz scrubbed a hand over his face and pushed himself up to sitting. “Who?”

Jemma shook her head and flung off the covers. “I don’t know, but they’re not being very quiet about it.” As if to prove her point, there was a series of loud thumping noises accompanied by a shrill scream. Fitz scrambled off the bed, tugging on his pajama bottoms and scooping up his shirt as Jemma crept toward the door of their room. Hastily glancing around, she didn’t see much they could use as a weapon. The room was furnished simply with a bed and desk and she and Fitz hadn’t bothered unpacking much since the voyage was a short one.

Someone screamed again, much closer this time, and Jemma put her hand on the door handle.

“Wait,” Fitz hissed, pulling his shirt over his head. He dug through his open trunk and came up with a trowel, which Jemma supposed was better than nothing.

“Ready?” she whispered. Coming to stand next to her, he nodded once. 

Jemma yanked open the door and froze.

Just down the hall, a woman was pounding on the door to Coulson’s room and shouting something in a language Jemma didn’t recognize. It wasn’t Arabic, or French, though it did sound Latin-based. She followed Fitz into the hallway only to realize with horror that they were looking in the wrong direction. Just to their left, an enormous man had a girl with short dark hair pinned to the floor, and she was struggling to escape him.

“Fitz!” Jemma shrieked, stumbling back. She cast around for something, anything to help the poor woman, and her eyes landed on the desk chair. It would have to do. Grasping the wooden back with both hands, Jemma charged into the hallway again. The woman was still struggling, her eyes wide with fear.

The man had his hands wrapped around her upper arms and his body weight pinning her legs to the floor, which meant his back was to Jemma for the moment. Heart in her throat, Jemma lifted the chair as high as she could, only to have it yanked away just before she struck.

She spun around with a shriek and found Fitz standing there, his face pale and the chair in his hands. “What are you doing?” she gasped.

“You alright, Mack?” Fitz said.

“She’s a squirmy one, but I got her. Where the hell is Coulson?”

“Here.” Mr. Coulson emerged from May’s room, hastily pulling on a dressing gown.

“Elena?” Mack called.

“I got the damn door open, but he’s gone,” the woman who’d been pounding on Mr. Coulson’s door called back. “Is there another way out?”

“Through May’s,” Mr. Coulson said.

“No one came through here,” May said, peering into the corridor from her room. “Phil, would you check on the girls?”

“We’re here,” Daisy said, opening her door. Piper was standing beside her, her short hair mussed and her feet bare. “Is someone going to explain what the hell is going on?”

The woman struggling on the floor finally gave up, slumped down with a disgruntled sigh. She looked oddly familiar, which meant she was probably another secret Jemma had apparently been left in the dark about.

“He was here?” Coulson asked.

“In the flesh,” Mack said grimly.

“Excuse me,” Jemma said, thoroughly irritated. “But I presume you all know one another?” She lifted an eyebrow at Fitz, who at least had the decency to look ashamed. He lowered the chair to the floor and cleared his throat.

“Yes, ah, Jemma, this is Mack and Elena.” He jerked his head at the woman who’d been trying to roust Mr. Coulson and she silently handed Fitz his trowel back. “Mack and Elena, Jemma.”

“I’d say it’s lovely to meet you, but apparently my fiancé was hoping not to make introductions in the first place,” Jemma said, crossing her arms.

“Jemma,” Fitz said weakly.

“Fiancé?” Mack lifted an eyebrow as he stood, hauling the woman to her feet. She glowered at them and tried to yank her arm from his grasp to no avail. “Don’t remember you mentioning that, Fitz.”

“We’ve, um, it’s a recent engagement.” He turned pleading eyes on Jemma. “I’m so sorry, I know I should have told you but…”

“I ordered him not to,” Mr. Coulson interjected.

“What?” Jemma asked bewildered.  

“Sorry, Fitz,” Mr. Coulson sighed. “You were right, we should have let everyone know.”

“Damn right you should have,” May muttered.

“Can we get back to you suddenly having a fiancée?" Mack asked, sounding amused. “A resourceful one, too.” He smiled at Jemma. “Glad you didn’t actually bean me with that chair, though.” 

“He has a hard head, but I prefer it without any lumps,” Elena said, her eyes twinkling. “It’s nice to know not everyone is as slow to propose as my turtleman.”

Fitz blew out a breath, his hands on his hips. “Jemma and I had been exchanging letters for months, actually, so it’s not really all that sudden.”

Jemma’s mouth dropped open as the something she’d been trying to pin down all evening finally clicked. “The letters!”

“What?” Fitz frowned at her.

“Fitz, the answer’s in your letters,” Jemma breathed.

“It is?”

“Um.” Daisy raised her hand. “The answer to what, exactly? Because let me tell you, I have a lot of questions right now.”

Jemma whirled on her heel and headed for her trunk. “Our new, mysterious quest.”


	13. Tea

“Jemma,” Fitz said, coming into their room as she dug through her trunk. He set his trowel on the desk and retrieved her robe, holding it out to her as she stood up, clutching his letters. She narrowed her eyes, but let him help her into it. He tied the sash carefully, his lower lip caught between his teeth, and finally lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I should have said something.”

Jemma tried very hard to keep her voice from trembling. “Do you not trust me?”

Fitz’s eyes widened. “What? No, of course I trust you!”

“Then why wouldn’t you tell me one of Mr. Coulson’s men was on the boat?”

“He…” Fitz stopped, blowing out a frustrated breath. “No, you’re right. I wanted to tell you, but Coulson was hoping Mack could stay undercover for the duration of the trip. He’s here to protect you, and the others.”

“Fitz,” Jemma sighed. “I’m not some fragile flower.”

“And I love that about you,” Fitz said, a smile ghosting across his face. “But it doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop wanting to keep you safe.”

Something warm glowed in Jemma’s chest at his turn of phrase. “You promised to let me keep you safe, too, remember?”

Fitz’s face fell. “I remember. No more secrets, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Jemma lifted up on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his lips. “I love that you’re willing to admit when you’re wrong.”

“Hopefully it won’t happen very often.”

“Well, you were right about one thing,” Jemma said.

“What’s that?”

“I think it’s the pyramids.”

Fitz’s entire face lit up. “It is?”

“Most likely, but let’s get back to the others. I need the new piece of the map we uncovered.”

They reemerged from their room to find Mr. Coulson and Mack in a huddle while May glowered down at the strange woman, who was now seated in the chair Jemma’d almost hit Mack with. Good thing Fitz had stopped her from assaulting a government agent. Although really, if she’d known who he was in the first place, it could have easily been prevented. Men. They were so ridiculous about secrecy when it suited them.

Daisy and Piper were leaning against the wall and whispering to one another. “What’s going on?” Jemma asked.

“Trying to decide what to do with her,” Daisy said.

Jemma tilted her head and took a step closer to the stranger as the memory of a flower hat flitted through her mind. “Weren’t you on the ship with us from England?” she asked.

The woman’s eyes widened just a fraction, but it was enough to confirm Jemma’s suspicions.

“Have you been following us?” May asked sharply.

“No! Well, maybe a little, but only because that man told me he would pay me well if I helped him watch all of you.” She gazed innocently up at May. “But I don’t know what he’s after, honest. I thought he was just chasing after some dame who’d thrown him over.”

Piper gasped. “You’re the one who pushed me down the hill at the dig site!”

Daisy put her hands on her hips. “Maybe we should push her off the boat.” 

May’s face remained impassive. “What’s your name?” she asked the woman.

“Raina.”

“Well, Raina, if you come near me or my family again, you’re going to have a much bigger problem than Mack, understand?”

Raina opened her mouth, seemed to think better of it, and paused for a moment. “I understand,” she said.

“Good.” May stepped back and Raina stood up. Mr. Coulson frowned, but dipped his chin in acknowledgment as Raina scurried off down the hall and disappeared.

“You’re letting her go?” Jemma asked, bewildered.

“Elena’s on it,” Mack said. “She’ll stick to her like honey on baklava.”

“Besides.” Mr. Coulson grimaced. “We don’t really have the grounds to detain her outside the U.S. She’s not a deserter like Ward.”

Mack let out a low growl. “I can’t believe he has the nerve to show his face after all this time.”

“He must really want whatever this thing is,” Mr. Coulson said. He turned to Jemma and Fitz, his expression serious. “Any leads, by the way?”

“Yes, actually.” Jemma held up the sheaf of Fitz’s letters in her hands. She was almost sure what she needed was in the stack. “I think.”

“Great, catch me up later?” Mack clapped Fitz on the shoulder. “Thanks again for saving my head, and it’s nice to meet you, Jemma. We’ll give you a report in the morning,” he said to Coulson before disappearing down the hall.

“Let’s take this…” Mr. Coulson opened the door to his room and sighed. Jemma peered in, wrinkling her nose at the mess. It looked worse than their rooms had on the boat to Alexandria. Feathers from the pillows covered piles of clothes and books and the mattress had several slashes down the middle.

“To my room?” May said.

Mr. Coulson closed the door. “Better idea.”

Daisy yawned. “Can we order some coffee?”

“And tea,” Fitz said quickly.

“Might as well,” Mr. Coulson said. “It’s nearly dawn.”

“Ugh,” Daisy said. “I think I prefer it from the other side.”

“Good to know,” Piper said, flashing a smile.

Jemma leaned into the hand that Fitz placed on her back, letting him steer her to May’s room. She really hoped she was right about this.

***

Fitz absentmindedly stirred a spoonful of sugar into a cup of tea and slid it across the table to Jemma while she leafed through his letters, muttering under her breath. May had put the newly uncovered piece of parchment in front of them and Jemma glanced up every once in a while like she was trying to gauge something.

They were all crowded into May’s room, ensconced in the tiny lounge that occupied one corner and waiting for Jemma to find what she was searching for. Coulson had caught Fitz’s eye at one point, but Fitz had merely shrugged. For once, he hadn’t a clue. He’d wracked his brain trying to recall all the things about the pyramids he’d written to Jemma—back when she’d just been Simmons and he’d been the fool who hadn’t realized what he was missing—but they’d covered so much over their months of correspondence he couldn’t narrow it down.

With everyone still in their nightclothes, their meeting was more informal than Fitz had ever expected to be with an employer, but perhaps they were all a team at this point or a strange sort of family. May and Coulson were sitting on the small sofa across from him while Jemma was perched on one of the matching armchairs. Fitz had brought in the hardback chair for himself, leaving the other armchair for Daisy and Piper.

He stirred in an extra spoonful of sugar to his own tea before leaning back and wishing he’d put on his slippers. It was quite cool out here on the river.

“Ah!” Jemma said, triumphantly holding a paper aloft. “I knew I’d seen this before.” She laid the paper next to the drawing they’d uncovered, and Fitz frowned at it for a moment before light dawned.

“You don’t think…” he began, hardly able to finish his sentence. Now this, this would be a discovery for the history books.

“It’s the only way I can make heads or tails of it,” Jemma said, turning both papers slightly.

“Uh, can one of you translate for the rest of us?” Coulson said.

Fitz slid off his chair to kneel in front of the table, picking up his detailed drawing of the known passages and chambers and laying it over the crude representation of those same chambers—with several additions. “It’s a schematic of the Great Pyramid. This one-” he pointed to his drawing, “shows everything that’s been discovered, but this-” he tapped the larger parchment, “seems to indicate there’s quite a lot more.”

Coulson tilted his head and leaned forward, the oily coffee in his cup sloshing, and Fitz winced but resisted sliding the papers out of harm’s way. He had to redo his drawing anyway, the scale was all off.

“Fitz,” Jemma said. “Do you think you could-”

“Definitely, just need a bit of tracing paper and some time.”

“Perfect.” Jemma beamed at him. “I knew your letters would be helpful.”

“I would have brought yours,” Fitz said, smiling back. “But I’d much rather have you along, instead.” Jemma took a sip of tea, a blush blooming in her cheeks, and Daisy giggled against Piper’s shoulder. 

Coulson cleared his throat. “Okay, so, Fitz, you’re going to…?”

“Make a new map,” Fitz clarified, tearing his eyes from Jemma. “One that’ll hopefully help us pinpoint where the currently known chambers connect to these unknown ones.”

“Will that take long?” May asked.

“Not more than an hour or two,” Fitz said, examining the papers.

“Great.” Coulson stood. “We’ll reconvene at noon. Let me know if you need any supplies.”

Fitz stood as well, rolling up the map and his drawing together and tucking it under his arm before reaching for Jemma’s hand. She abandoned her teacup on the table and stood, lacing their fingers together. “I have everything I need,” Fitz said. And he was sure what he didn’t have, Jemma would. His ten kinds of brilliant fiancée, who’d just revealed one of the greatest discoveries this century. Howard Carter would be green with envy if they were ever allowed to talk about it.

He could feel Jemma’s eyes on him, soft and sweet, and he tamped down on the urge to kiss her senseless in front of everyone. He’d save that for back in their room.

***

Jemma settled on the end of the bed, watching Fitz tuck the chair under the desk where it belonged and carefully unrolling the map again. A slight frown marred his face, and she had the luxury of studying him while he was unguarded. She could practically see his mind slotting together the two schematics, the tumblers rolling and clicking into place. The sun was just starting to come up over the horizon, the light filtering in through the curtains, and it lit up his features in quite a handsome way. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of watching him work.

“You don’t think you’ll need more than a couple of hours for the drawing?” Jemma asked, loosening the knot on her dressing gown.

Fitz nodded, his fingers tracing the outline of one narrow passage that led to the Queen’s chamber. Jemma’s stomach fluttered as she followed the path of his hand. “Shouldn’t take very long at all.” He was wearing the same expression he did when he touched her, a kind of reverence that had taken her completely by surprise their first time together. Now, it just made her heart thump a little faster.

“And it’s hours to noon.”

“Yeah, I should be able to-” He trailed off as he finally looked up, his eyes widening as she tugged open the front of her robe. “Are you…going back to bed?” he asked, his voice a bit raspy. Jemma bit her lip and shrugged out of her robe, enjoying the way his gaze dropped to her cleavage.

She hadn’t expected, after her previous lackluster kissing experiences, to enjoy the physical part of marriage, which had been yet another reason she was against the entire institution. But that was before she’d met Fitz. Perhaps this was a lesson on jumping to conclusions before she’d gathered all the facts.

“I was hoping I might have some company,” she said.

Fitz stepped away from the desk and a thrill ran through her. “It is hours to noon.”

“Yes, hours,” she said a bit breathlessly. She fiddled with one strap of her nightgown before pushing it off her shoulder and revealing one breast. Her nipple was already hard and aching, ready for his mouth and clever fingers, and she wasn’t disappointed.

Fitz closed the remaining distance between them and sank to his knees, his hands coming to rest on her thighs. She bent to kiss him, opening her mouth to his questing tongue and groaning as he cupped her breast in one hand. His other hand had found the hem of her gown and was inching up her calf, pushing the fabric up with it. “Jemma,” he murmured against her lips.

She shrugged off the other strap of her gown and sighed as he nuzzled into her cleavage. He sucked one nipple into his mouth hard enough to make her gasp and arch her back, seeking more. Moaning against her breast, his hand slid up the inside of her thigh, brushing between her legs. Jemma whimpered and clutched the back of his head, eager for him to continue, but he pulled back, his chest heaving, and stared up at her.

“Can I…I’d like to try something,” he said hoarsely.

“Yes, anything,” she said, impatiently tugging him back into a kiss. She felt him smile against her lips as he helped her lie back on the bed, leaving a trail of kisses down her throat and across her breasts. She lifted her hips so he could strip off her nightgown, but he made no move to join her, instead kneeling between her legs and stroking her through her knickers. Desire pooled in her belly and she fought to keep her eyes open as he contemplated her body.

Biting her lip, Jemma watched curiously as he carefully peeled off the last of her clothing, leaving her completely nude. She started to close her legs, feeling oddly exposed, but he gently urged them open, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin under her knees. He looked up at her, his eyes bright in the sunlight now pouring through the window. “Let me know if I’m not doing this right.”

“Doing wha-” Jemma let out a strangled gasp as his tongue delved into her nether regions and her brain whited out, overcome by the pleasure he was wringing from her body. The moan she let out was loud enough she would probably be embarrassed by it later, but that only seemed to spur Fitz on.

She was definitely going to enjoy being married.

***

“We’re going to be late,” Jemma said, sticking another pin in her hair.

Fitz was sitting at the desk in front of his newly completed map with his chin propped on his hand, still in his stocking feet, watching her get ready. “I don’t think they can start without us.”

“We still don’t want to be late!”

“I don’t know, think it might have been worth it,” he mused.

Jemma met his eyes in the mirror, knowing she was blushing but unable to stop from smiling. Their latest exploration had been smashingly successful. She pressed her thighs together and a shiver zipped up her spine before she regained control of herself. They had a lifetime to discover one another, but it was difficult to concentrate on the here and now when she kept thinking of new things she wanted to try. Perhaps she should make a list.

“Fitz,” she said.

He held up his hands in surrender and began to button his shirt while she put the finishing touches on her hair. Really, she should consider cutting it. It would be so nice not to have to fiddle with it so much just to make herself presentable. Just who had declared that long hair had to be pulled back to be considered neat and proper? Jemma made a face at the mirror. Men, most likely. They were always coming up with arbitrary rules for everyone else to follow. She eyed Fitz over her shoulder as he bent to get his shoes on, his trousers pulling tight over his bum. Although some of them were quite alright.

Fitz straightened up and grabbed his jacket, pulling it on and shifting as he tried to get it to lay right. Jemma moved to stand in front of him, brushing a kiss across his lips as she straightened the collar. “Daisy’s quite a whiz with a needle and thread. Perhaps we can get her to adjust your poor jacket before you burst out of it.”

Looking embarrassed, Fitz did up the buttons. “I’m not sure it’s worth salvaging.”

“Nonsense,” Jemma brushed her hands across his shoulders. “It looks quite nice on you.”

Fitz lifted his eyebrows. “I didn’t think…” he trailed off, contemplating her. 

“Think what?”

He lifted one shoulder. “That you’d approve of what I wear now.”

“Why on earth not?”

“It’s not-” He gestured at her and Jemma frowned down at her blouse and trousers until a light finally dawned.

“Oh, Fitz.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him in for slow, gentle kiss. “I think we’ll both be far too busy to worry about whether we’re fashionably dressed, don’t you? And thank goodness, too. I’m tired of trying to explain to my mother how much more practical a nice pair of trousers are.”

“Your…oh,” Fitz said, relaxing against her. “Your parents aren’t…you’re not concerned about what they’ll think?”

“Of you?” Jemma pulled back, startled. “I think they’ll be thrilled, honestly, although wait until they realize I’ve married a Scot. My cousins will be gossiping for days.”

“Is that good or bad?” Fitz asked cautiously.

“Who cares, when I’ve got you?” Jemma kissed him again. “Come on, we’re properly late now.”

She rolled up his new schematic and handed it to him and he gave her a smile that would have made them even later if her body wasn’t still humming with satisfaction from their earlier tryst. She tucked her hand under his arm as they walked down the hall to the dining room and Jemma leaned her head on his shoulder, breathing him in.

If she hadn’t discovered a damn thing this season, at least she would have found him, and that was worth a thousand treasures.

***

“Here they are.” Mack gave Fitz and Jemma an easy smile as they joined everyone at the table. “Heard you were working on a top-secret project all morning.”

Fitz paused, trying to decide if Mack was teasing him or not while pulling a chair out for Jemma. “Fitz did a wonderful job,” Jemma said cheerfully, settling into the chair.

Elena elbowed her husband as he opened his mouth again, not bothering to hide her grin. Yes, definitely teasing. Fitz narrowed his eyes at Mack. “Something about a map?” Elena said. “Coulson’s been catching us up.”

Piper covered her mouth with one hand and Mack’s smile got a touch bigger, but Fitz decided it was best to just ignore them all. “Uh, yeah, we finished the new map.”

He glanced at Coulson, who nodded. “We’re alright. Raina got off the boat this morning in Asyut.”

“Good riddance,” Daisy grumbled.

“And what about Ward?” Jemma asked. “Did we discover where he disappeared to? I have to admit I’d rather like to see him so I know who to look for the next time. Assuming there is a next time.”

Coulson leaned back in his chair as the first course was delivered to the table. “Let’s hope not. Apparently, he’d hired a felucca to assist with his dirty work last night. Or stole one. Whatever the case, that’s how he pulled off his disappearing act. If there is a next time, hopefully he won’t be able to sail off into the sunset again.”

“You decided to let Raina go?” Piper asked.

“They know where this boat stops,” Mack said, exchanging glances with Coulson. “I’m sure she’s heading for Cairo. She might be a bigger player than she claims, but we couldn’t take the chance that she was trying to draw us off track.”

“Better to stick together,” Coulson affirmed. “Now, tell us what we’ve got.”

“Well.” Fitz carefully set his drawing in the center of the table and unfurled it. Daisy set a salt shaker on one corner and Jemma held down another so everyone could see it. Fitz pointed to the section that he and Jemma agreed seemed to have the most direct access to the additional chambers they might be looking for. “We think there’s an undiscovered section, maybe under what’s been explored so far, accessible through the Queen’s Chamber.”

“So, more digging?” Daisy asked, her nose wrinkling.

“Don’t know,” Fitz said, shrugging. “In the tomb, the hidden drawer was very cleverly concealed. Perhaps there’s something similar no one’s discovered yet.”

“Ooh, like a secret passageway?” Daisy said.

“That would be something, wouldn’t it?” Jemma said, sounding just as enthusiastic.

“Much cooler than another pile of rocks.”

Fitz pinched the bridge of his nose. “The pyramids are not just ‘another pile of rocks’. Do you have any idea how much work went into cutting and moving each of the individual blocks? They’re an amazing feat of ancient engineering and…” He narrowed his eyes at Jemma, who seemed to be reciting something under her breath that Daisy and Piper found quite entertaining. “Jemma, did you have something to add?”

“What?” She lifted her eyes, all innocence, and took a sip of her tea. “Oh, no, you were doing wonderfully. Please do mention the force to lift calculations, that’s my favorite part.” She leaned in, kissing him briefly on the tip of his nose, and Fitz’s irritation melted.

“Alright, fine, perhaps everyone doesn’t find them as fascinating as me, but they should.”

“Who says I don’t?” Jemma said.

“I heard there was no way those things could have been built by Ancient Egyptians without help,” Mack said. “I’ve stood next to them and let me tell you, I almost believe it.”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “It’s not magic, it’s science.”

“Well, whoever built them,” Coulson said. “We’ve got to get in here,” he tapped a finger on Fitz’s drawing, “and figure out what the heck it is we’ve found.”

 


	14. Cairo

Cairo was teeming with people, and Jemma didn’t know where to look first.

Fitz had her elbow—luckily, since he’d already steered her around a food cart, a stack of luggage, and a clump of people arguing in rapid-fire Arabic that she was miffed to discover she couldn’t follow—and was guiding her to the main street.

“Oh, would you look at that,” Jemma said, peering down the banks of the river. “Is that a Nilometer?”

“Is it?” Fitz stopped and craned his head to look. “I think it…oh blast, we’re going to lose the others if we don’t hurry up.”

Jemma clutched his elbow a little tighter. “We’ll come back later.”

“Of course,” Fitz said. “After this whole mess is straightened out.”

“Mr. Coulson seems quite sure Ward hasn’t finished with us yet, doesn’t he?”

“Maybe he’s just being overly cautious,” Fitz said, but Jemma caught the doubt in his voice. The afternoon sun was casting long shadows, and the sheer number of people hurrying along the crowded streets was almost overwhelming after their peaceful trip on the water. “Come on, I think they’ve got a car.”

“Fitz!” Coulson called as they approached. He and May had their heads close together, and seemed to be concluding some sort of whispered argument. From the triumphant gleam in May’s eye, Jemma was certain she knew who’d won. Elena was arguing with the driver, her Arabic almost as quick as his, and Mack was standing close behind her, his arms crossed. “You’re both with Daisy and Piper.”

“Are we going to the pyramids?” Fitz asked.

Coulson shook his head and Jemma patted Fitz’s shoulder in sympathy, feeling him deflate a little. “Not yet. I’ve got to send an update back home.” He lifted the satchel containing the stone in his hand. “In the meantime, this baby stays with me at all times. Head on over to the hotel. We should be back by dinnertime.”

Jemma let Fitz help her into the back of their designated car, though she still couldn’t tear her eyes from the bustle around them. It was like being back in London, but the underlying eddies and currents guiding everyone’s movements were entirely different. It was fascinating.

They passed several imposing buildings sandwiched between older, squat houses with lush gardens, their driver periodically leaning out of his window to call to someone they passed on the street. Men in bright white gallabiyahs were clustered near the coffee shops and women in lightweight dresses strolled along, peering into shop windows.

Fitz curled his hand around hers, interlinking their fingers, and she glanced over distractedly, giving him a smile. “Maybe we can go to the museum in the morning?” she said.

“And then the pyramids?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

Jemma twisted in her seat, giving him her full attention. “And then the pyramids,” she promised, leaning in and brushing a swift kiss across his lips.

“Jemma!” Daisy gasped as the car went around a corner. “Still want to cut your hair?”

Turning back to the window, Jemma caught a glimpse of a salon as the car slowed down. She lifted a hand to her hair, her temples damp with perspiration from the heat, and eyed Piper and Daisy’s easy haircuts with envy. “You think I—oh, look!” Jemma waved eagerly as Bobbi’s familiar face emerged from the hotel, her hand tucked into the crook of Hunter’s arm.

Hunter squinted into the sun and then broke into a grin as the car came to a halt and Daisy flung open the door. “It’s about damn time,” he said cheerfully. “We’ve been here ages already.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes and released him to give Daisy a hug, followed by Jemma. “How was the train?” Jemma asked. “I did enjoy the trip down to Luxor, though the boat was nice too.”

Shooting a glance towards her husband, Bobbi grinned. “It was…not bad, actually. Did you guys have any trouble?”

“Tons,” Daisy said cheerfully. “Ward showed up and Jemma almost beaned Mack with a chair, but guess who was staying in May’s room?” She waggled her eyebrows.

“No!” Bobbi gasped. “I knew it!”

Hunter tugged the knot on his tie, loosening it. “Looks like we’re staying in, love. Won’t be needing this blasted torture device after all.” He didn’t sound the least bit put out about it as he undid the top two buttons of his shirt and yanked the tie over his head. “Where’s Coulson?”

“Went to send a cable. He said they’d be back for supper,” Fitz said.

“Mack with him?”

“And May and Elena,” Piper said. “They’ll be alright.”

Hunter rubbed his hands together. “Well then, should we all have a drink? Celebrate this engagement properly?” He nudged Fitz and shot a wink at Jemma.

“Actually,” Daisy said, linking her arm with Jemma’s. “We have something important to do first.”

“We do?” Jemma said. Daisy twirled a strand of her chin-length bob, her eyebrows lifting. “Oh!” Jemma lifted a hand to the heavy twist at the nape of her neck, already imagining how free it would feel to be rid of it all. “We do,” she said determinedly.

Daisy cheered, then tilted her head toward Bobbi. “Want to come?”

“Why not?” Bobbi patted Hunter’s chest. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

“I’m not making any promises,” Hunter said.

“We’ll do our best,” Fitz said, brushing a kiss across Jemma’s knuckles before releasing her hand. “Be careful.”

Jemma leaned in impulsively to kiss him even though they were standing on the pavement in broad daylight. “You too.”

***

“Hunter,” Fitz said urgently once the women had all disappeared around the corner.

“Ready for that drink?” Hunter said, patting his shoulder. “Just like old times.”

“I need to get Jemma a ring.”

Hunter’s eyebrows lifted, but instead of making some disparaging remark about marriage like Fitz half-expected, he just nodded. “I know a place.”

“You do?” Fitz asked, bewildered.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Hunter said, stepping into the street and gesturing at Fitz to follow. “I know how to treat a woman properly.” He glanced in the direction the others had gone. “Or at least, I’m figuring one out.”

“That’s probably helpful, considering she’s your wife.”

“Yeah,” Hunter said, a grin blossoming on his face. “Here we are.”

They stopped in front of a shop so narrow Fitz was sure he could blink and miss it. The door stood open and the long, skinny window next to it was crammed full of shiny trinkets and gaudy reproductions. “I’m not sure-” Fitz began.

“Trust me,” Hunter said, ducking his head so he could enter. Fitz followed, the top of his head brushing the doorframe, and once his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he was surprised to see it was more spacious than he’d expected.

“Mr. Hunter!” the man behind the counter said with a smile. “You’re in luck, we’ve just finished it.”

“Excellent news, Amir, but my friend here’s just gotten himself engaged, so he’ll be needing a ring.”

Amir’s eyes lit up and Fitz found himself ensconced in an overstuffed chair barely a minute later, a steaming cup of tea at his elbow and a dazzling array of rings in front of him. “Um,” he said weakly, glancing at Hunter. His friend had settled in another chair nearby, his jacket slung over the arm. Hunter was turning something over in his hand, looking thoughtful.

“What’s that?” Fitz asked, curious.

It was about the size and shape of a coin, and Hunter flipped it once before catching it and holding it out his palm. “Just a little bit of nothing,” he said as Fitz picked it up.

While Fitz hadn’t excelled in his Arabic courses, he was perfectly able to read a phonetic translation of Edinburgh engraved on one side of the charm, and _Msr,_ the name for Egypt, on the other. Fighting to keep his expression neutral, he lifted his gaze. “It’s for Bobbi?”

Hunter took the charm back. “Just thought she’d like something to remember our beginnings. Both of them.”

“You’re not getting that divorce, then?”

Hunter narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to pick a ring or are we going to be sitting here until breakfast?”

“Our beginning,” Fitz mused, returning his attention to the trays of rings. “I think Jemma would prefer something more…” He waved a hand vaguely at the tiny section of rings that weren’t set with stones the size of the rock of Gibraltar. For one thing, he didn’t think he could afford anything so large, and for another, he was sure Jemma would be much happier with something that wouldn’t get in the way of their work.

Seemingly unfazed, Amir swapped out four trays for two with smaller bands and more reasonable sized stones. Fitz zeroed in on a dark blue stone that reminded him of the Nile, the heart of Egypt, and the very thing that had brought him to Jemma. “This one,” he said, plucking it from its spot.

There was another flurry of activity as Amir polished their pieces before wrapping them and handing them over, treating them as though they were as precious as any of the jewels Carter had found in Tutankhamen’s tomb. Just as they were saying their goodbyes, another man slipped in from the back of the shop, whispering in rapid-fire Arabic into Amir’s ear. Hunter glanced over, but Fitz could only shake his head, unable to make out more than a few common nouns.

“Mr. Hunter,” Amir said, clasping his hands together tightly. “There’s one more thing I’d like to show you before you and your friend go. I think your wife would quite like it.”

“Sure,” Hunter said, shrugging. He followed Amir toward the back of the shop as Fitz carefully tucked away Jemma’s ring and settled back down to finish his tea. He quite liked how sweet the Egyptians took it, even if the mint was a bit of a surprise every time.

A shout from the back of the shop made Fitz jump, and he nearly dropped the cup he was holding. “Hunter?” A loud thump had him rushing around the counter, only to find himself staring down the barrel of a nasty-looking little pistol.

“Hello, Fitz,” a strange man said, his grin a little too wide.

It took a minute for Fitz to place him, but finally, everything clicked. It was the man he’d run into outside the pub in Edinburgh, who’d handed him his steamer tickets. Undoubtedly the same man who’d blown up the entrance to the tomb, and had escaped Mack and Elena on the boat. “Ward,” Fitz breathed.

The man smirked. “My reputation proceeds me.” He gestured toward the front door with the gun. “But just in case you’re feeling brave, try anything, and your girl pays for it.”

Fitz froze, every thought fleeing from his mind save one. “What have you done with Jemma?”

“Nothing.” Ward gave him that unsettling smile again. “Yet. Now move.” He poked Fitz between the shoulder blades with his gun as a sleek black car pulled up outside the shop. Glancing back, Fitz saw Amir peering out from the rear of the shop, his eyes wide. There was no sign of Hunter. 

Fitz was on his own.

***

Jemma leaned forward, examining her hair in the mirror. “It’s okay?” she asked, nervously fingering her newly-shorn strands. It now fell to just below her ears, curling slightly at the ends, and so modern looking that Jemma was sure her mother would be horrified.

“It looks amazing, doll.” Daisy beamed at her.

Biting her lip, Jemma patted her hair again, unused to letting it hang so freely. “Where are the others?”

“Bobbi wanted something sweet, so she and Piper went to the café around the corner. Come on, let’s go round them up and get back to the hotel, you’ve got a fiancé to wow.” Daisy grinned.

They stepped out onto the pavement, and a familiar face caught Jemma’s eye. “Daisy,” she said. “Is that…”

“Hello again,” Raina said with a charming smile.

Jemma let out a squeak as something hard pressed against her side. “Hey,” Daisy said her eyes going wide. “You-”

“Scream, and I shoot,” Raina said, her smile never wavering.

Daisy sucked in a breath, her gaze meeting Jemma’s before she lifted her hands placatingly.  

“Get in the car,” Raina said, shoving Jemma toward the street, where a large, black car was idling.

“What do you want?” Jemma hissed as she was hustled along. “I don’t have the artifact.”

“Oh, that’ll come to us,” Raina said.

The last thing Jemma saw as the car door closed was Daisy, her jaw set and her expression fierce.

“Jemma?”

Fitz’s voice had her whipping around, and relief flooded through her as Jemma slid across the seat. “Fitz!” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, tucking her face in the crook of his neck and breathing him in while he held her. “What are you doing here? Are you alright?”

“Fine, I’m fine,” Fitz assured her, running a hand through her hair. “You?”

“Yeah, great, very touching reunion, now tell us where we’re going,” the man behind Fitz said.

Jemma glared at him. “You must be Ward.”

“In the flesh.”

“I’ve never been less pleased to meet anyone in my life.”

“You wound me, sweetheart,” Ward drawled. “Now, let me ask again: where are we going?”

“Like we’d tell you!” Jemma winced as Raina dug the gun into her back.

“Jemma,” Fitz said worriedly as the car jerked around a corner and headed for one of the bridges spanning the Nile.

Ward shrugged. “Fine. I doubt we need both of you and there’s plenty of desert to dump a body out here.”

“No!” Fitz clutched her so tightly Jemma could hardly breathe, and a tear leaked out of her eye.

“Fitz,” she whispered, her hand fisted into his shirt. His hand cupped the back of her head and she wiped hastily at her cheeks, not wanting these horrible people to know they’d made her cry. 

“What the bloody hell do you want with us?” Fitz demanded.

“And here I thought Coulson picked you for your smarts,” Ward said. “For the last damn time, tell me where we’re supposed to take this.” He produced the first artifact they’d found in the tomb near Luxor, it’s blue glow much brighter than Jemma remembered. Ward shook it like he was expecting it to do something, frowning.

“We’re not entirely certain,” Fitz hedged. 

“You better get certain, otherwise your girl’s going to end up with lead poisoning.”

Fitz’s hold on Jemma tightened. “Stop, just…don't hurt her,” Fitz said, his jaw set. He shot Jemma a helpless look. “We think it’s the pyramids. But I need Jemma’s help with this, alright? We’re a team.”

Ward lifted an eyebrow and leaned forward. “Hear that?” he called to the driver. “Head for Giza.”

Jemma glared at Ward, trying to figure out how she might shove him out of the car when Raina was sitting behind her with a gun pressed between her shoulder blades. She’d never hated a man so much in her life, and that included the professor who’d once asked if Jemma had her father’s permission to attend university. But she’d endured, and excelled at her studies, and she would do that here as well. At least this time she wasn’t alone.

Ward was going to regret the day he’d decided to threaten them. 

***

Fitz stared at the pyramids looming up out of the desert, their tops stretching up towards the stars, bathed in moonlight and looking like they’d endure another few thousand years. They were a testament to man’s ingenuity, strength, and incessant need to make a permanent mark on the world.

And he’d never hated anything more in that moment, except possibly the man who was holding his fiancée captive.

They’d been walking for what felt like hours but likely hadn’t been more than a few minutes, slowly picking their way across the sand. The moon was full and rising slowly, lighting their way, and while Raina looked excited, the expression on Ward’s face could only be described as fanatical. Fitz’s hands were tied, and Jemma’s too, though it seemed a silly precaution. Where the hell were they going to go? A sea of desert stretched out in every direction, with only the distant lights of Cairo for company. A few men Ward had bribed followed them with mules loaded down with equipment. Fitz wasn’t sure they’d actually need any of it, but maybe at some point, he’d be able to get his hands on a shovel or something else large and heavy to bring down on Ward’s head.

“We’re in the right place,” Ward said, sounding pleased. The object in his hand was growing brighter with each step they took towards the Great Pyramid.

Hunter was with them, too. That had been a surprise. When Ward had first hauled an unconscious Hunter out of the car boot, Fitz had felt a twinge of hope, even though his friend’s hands and feet were bound, and a stain of dried blood marred his face. But Hunter had been unceremoniously slung across the back of one of the mules for the trek across the desert, and since then he’d made nary a twitch to show he might be aware of his surroundings.

Jemma stumbled, and Ward caught her, jerking her back upright before she could hit the sand. She pulled herself out of his grasp, edging closer to Fitz. A growl bubbled up out of Fitz’s throat and Jemma leaned against him, brushing their shoulders together as they walked. “You alright?” he whispered.

She nodded, her face pale in the moonlight and framed by her hair, which was much shorter than it had been this morning, but no less lovely.

He wanted very badly to take her in his arms and promise he wouldn’t let anything terrible happen, but it seemed a little late for that. Of all the ways he’d envisioned visiting the pyramids, this had never been one of them. “I like your hair,” he said, pressing briefly against Jemma’s side.

“Thank you.” A smile flitted briefly across her face before her worried expression settled back into place. “What do you suppose he’s going to do with us?”

Fitz lifted one shoulder. “I doubt he’s planning to send us on our way when we’re done with a thanks and a handshake.”

Jemma sighed. “No, I’d guess not.” She frowned, squinting off into the distance. “Do you hear that?”

Fitz cocked his head and tried to tune out the low murmuring of the men and the gentle clinking of the equipment on the mules behind them. There was something, a rhythmic thump that reminded him of…

“Horses,” Jemma breathed.

They’d almost reached the pyramids, but off in the distance, Fitz could just make out something moving swiftly across the sand. He reached over, awkwardly clasping Jemma’s hands with his, as Ward lifted his hand to signal them all to stop.

“You two,” he said, pointing at Fitz and Jemma. “Sit and keep quiet.”

Slowly, Fitz sank to his knees before helping Jemma down beside him, shifting to try and find a comfortable spot on the sand. Raina took a position beside them, her pistol dangling at her side and her posture indifferent. She let out a sigh that sounded quite irritated, which cheered Fitz a bit.

There was a thump, and Fitz looked back to see Ward as he pulled Hunter off the mule and was dragging him forward. Jemma made a worried noise and Fitz squeezed her hand, watching anxiously as whoever it was approached. The moonlight was bright enough for him to make out two people on horseback.

“It’s Bobbi,” Jemma whispered. Fitz nodded. Her bright head of hair was unmistakable.

“Hunter’s going to catch an earful,” he whispered back, glancing anxiously at his friend, who remained unmoving.

“Quiet,” Ward barked at them.

The horses slowed to a more sedate walk, and Fitz finally recognized the other figure, his shoulders slumping in relief. “Coulson,” he murmured.

“Ward,” Coulson said, dismounting. He barely spared a glance for Fitz and Jemma, but Fitz supposed Ward was the one he had to keep an eye on. Bobbi climbed down from her horse as well, her mouth set in a grim line. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Coulson,” Ward said, dipping his chin. “Glad you could join us.” He nudged Hunter’s still form with his foot. “You used to train your guys better.”

Bobbi made a strangled noise, but Coulson held out a hand, keeping her back. “Ward, this will go much easier if you’d just give up and turn yourself in. They’re still offering amnesty for deserters.”

Ward laughed, the sound loud and mocking. “Deserters? That’s what they’re calling the only people smart enough to realize we were fighting a losing battle over a bunch of dirt?”

Fitz tensed as he saw Hunter’s eyes open, and Jemma inhaled sharply beside him. In the next second, Hunter had grabbed ahold of Ward’s ankle and yanked, twisting himself around so that Ward landed beside him and Hunter could elbow him in the solar plexus.

Bobbi charged forward while Coulson drew his gun, but Ward had already recovered, rolling so Hunter ended up on his back with Ward’s knee on his chest and his gun pointed at Hunter’s stomach.

Fitz lurched forward, but a strangled cry beside him made him spin around. Raina had a hand twisted into Jemma’s hair, and a gun pointed at her temple. “Move and she dies,” Raina said. Fitz barely dared to breathe, his eyes darting between Jemma and the others.

“Hunter,” Bobbi said, her hands curling into fists. “You alright?”

“Be right as rain soon as someone puts a slug in this idiot,” Hunter gasped out.

“Go ahead,” Ward said, gesturing grandly with his free hand. “I can guarantee all three of them die if that happens.”

Jemma let out a gasp as Raina wrenched the hand in her hair and Fitz watched, feeling utterly helpless.

“Ward,” Coulson said. “Why the hell are you doing this?”

“Putting an end to everyone’s misery? Why wouldn’t I?” Ward said. “This hell of a world deserves to go up in flames. Do you remember what it was like, Coulson, out there in the trenches?” He pressed the barrel of the gun against Hunter’s stomach. “Listening to the screams of the dying? I’d be happy to remind you.”

“Don’t…” Bobbi started to take a step forward and Coulson caught her arm as Ward prodded Hunter with his gun.

“Give me whatever else it was you found, and your gun, or all three of them die. Slowly. And painfully.”

“Whatever you think you’ll gain,” Coulson said quietly. “It’s not worth it. I can’t let you do this.”

“If you think-” Bobbi snapped, turning toward Coulson, but Coulson just shook his head, keeping his eyes on Ward.

“I’d like to see you try and stop me,” Ward said. “Last chance. Hand it over.”

“Ward-”

Coulson was cut off by the sound of a gunshot, and Jemma’s shriek made Fitz’s blood run cold.

“Bloody fuck!” Hunter yelped, his hands clutching his leg as the sand under him turned dark with blood.

“Next one goes in his gut,” Ward said.

Coulson hesitated, and Fitz’s mouth went dry as his mind spun in a thousand directions. If Ward thought whatever was in the pyramid could bring about the end the world, and Coulson held the key, what did three lives matter? But one of those lives was Jemma’s, and there was no world without her in it. Fitz shifted towards her slightly, every nerve humming, and sent up a silent plea for Coulson to realize they hadn’t lost yet. Even if they handed the stone over to Ward, there would be time to stop him. Maybe.

Ward’s gun didn’t waver, and he was as still as a statue in the desert night. Hunter was cursing up a blue streak and Bobbi made a pained noise, taking an aborted step in his direction. Coulson looked over at Fitz and Jemma, and Fitz prepared to launch himself at Raina in the dim hope that it would throw off her aim, sparing Jemma, when Coulson’s expression flickered. Fitz froze.

“Don’t,” Coulson finally said, tossing his gun in Ward’s direction and lifting his hands. “You can have it.” Moving to his horse, Coulson retrieved the satchel containing the stone and tossed it toward Ward. “I guess I can’t stop you.” He glanced at Fitz again, dipping his chin, and Fitz blinked, puzzled for a moment until he realized Coulson had said ‘I’, not ‘we’, and there were several members of their team currently unaccounted for. Fitz met Jemma’s eyes, hope bubbling up inside him once more.

“Good choice,” Ward said, peeking inside the bag.

“Ward,” Coulson said calmly. “If you go down there, I can promise you’re not coming back up.”

Giving Coulson one of his disquieting smiles, Ward slowly stood, the satchel in his hand. “That’s the idea.”

 


	15. Giza

Jemma hadn’t let go of Fitz’s hand since they’d descended into the narrow passageway under the pyramids, following the light of Raina’s torch while Ward brought up the rear, likely to make sure they weren’t followed.

Though from grim look on Bobbi’s face as she wrapped a tourniquet around Hunter’s leg, the others had plenty of things to worry about besides Jemma and Fitz.

For several tense minutes, Jemma had been sure they were all going to be murdered in cold blood, but instead of her life flashing before her eyes, all she could think of was the future she’d never have. The moments she would never get to share with Fitz. There’d be no more cozy mornings in bed, or making him too-sweet cups of tea, or enjoying the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. There’d be no wedding, no honeymoon or…well, anything at all. She couldn’t bear to let that happen. If there was an opportunity for them to get out of this place alive, she was grabbing it with both hands and dragging Fitz along with her.

The walls around them were thousands of years old, and thick with layers of soot from at least a century’s-worth of gawking tourists. At any other time, Jemma would have been thrilled to be exploring such an extraordinary edifice, but Ward had tainted everything with his ridiculous insistence that their artifact was the key to ending the world.

Who could want such a thing to happen when there were still so many wonderful things to discover?

The blue light from the object in Ward’s hand glowed brighter and brighter all the time, and the satchel with the stone was slung over his shoulder, unfortunately well out of her reach.

Jemma clutched Fitz’s hands a little tighter as they shuffled through the narrow space with Ward directing them. They were heading towards the Queen’s Chamber, just as Fitz has deduced from the map. The blue glow made the small space look rather unearthly, but it did light things up better than a simple torch beam. They passed some rather intriguing-looking inscriptions she wished she had time to read, but Ward was hurrying them along as though they weren’t in a fascinating ancient structure.

She glanced at Fitz, sure he must be agonizing over the missed opportunity to examine how the corridors had been constructed, only to find he was watching her. His fingers caressed hers, heedless of the coarse rope wound around their wrists, and she wanted so badly to wipe that horribly worried expression from his face with a few reassuring words. But they both knew it’d be a hollow promise. This was quite honestly the last thing she’d ever expected to happen to her in Egypt, and she hadn’t prepared for it. That was a mistake she wouldn’t make again.

“Alright?” Fitz whispered, his face sickly pale in the wash of blue light.

Jemma nodded just as they came to a halt. “You’re up,” Ward said, smacking his hand against one wall of the Queen’s Chamber. “Now what?”

Raina was shining her torch around the room, frowning. “We must be close. The light’s brighter than we’ve ever seen it.”

Jemma spotted the anomaly immediately. It wasn’t much, just a line from the Book of the Dead, but it was carved in backward, the glyphs all marching in the opposite direction from their brethren. Even Anubis with his scale looked annoyed at their untidiness. Except…she squinted at the carving and then drew a sharp breath.

Glancing over at Fitz, she found him glaring at Ward, though it didn’t seem to faze their captor much. “We need that.” She nodded at the glowing thing in Ward’s hand.

Ward shrugged and tossed it at her, making Jemma squeak in surprise. Fitz was a bit better prepared, releasing her hand and reaching up to catch the object as best he could with his hands tied. Jemma cupped her hands under his to keep him from fumbling the artifact, and then she joined him in glaring at Ward.

“Guess it is a good thing we brought both of you,” Ward said, smirking. He bent to open the rucksack he’d brought, the satchel with the stone still slung over his shoulder. Raina had a rucksack as well, but she made no move to open it.

Jemma rolled her eyes and waited for a moment as Fitz examined the glowing artifact. When he looked up, she tilted her head at the carving of Anubis and his scales, and his eyes widened.

“Care to share with the class?” Raina said, leaning against a nearby wall. Ward paused in his rummaging.

Taking a deep breath, Jemma tried to keep the irritation out of her voice. She’d found it was always best to appear docile when dealing with idiot men. And the women who encouraged them. “In the previous tomb, there was a hidden compartment, and we believe there’s another here.” She held up the glowing artifact. “Possibly accessible with this.”

Moving toward the wall, Jemma examined Anubis again, noting the scales seemed to be carved quite deeply into the wall, and on top…she blew gently on it, wishing she had her archeology tools, when Ward loomed over her shoulder. “What is it?” he asked.

“I need a torch,” Jemma said.

Fitz appeared at her other shoulder a moment later, torch at the ready. He angled the beam perfectly and Jemma felt a little swell of pride at just how excellently they worked together, even under the worst of circumstances. “It’s the same writing?” Fitz asked.

“It appears to be.” Jemma leaned in a little closer, her fingers itching for her notebook.

The beam of light wavered, and she turned her head to find Fitz reaching up to brush her hair back away from her face. “Another time,” he said quietly, like he wasn’t completely aware that they were at a distinct disadvantage, and Ward had little inclination to let them go alive.

Her heart ached. “Another time,” she echoed, blinking back tears.

Fitz lifted the glowing object and started to place it on the shallow shelf created by the carving of the scales, only to have Ward snatch it out of his hand. “Be careful with that!” Jemma exclaimed. “I thought you wanted this to open?”

“We’ll get to it,” Ward said, taking a step back and tossing the artifact in the air carelessly. “I need to set up some insurance first.”

***

Bloody Ward.

Fitz scowled at the back of Ward’s head. The maniac had spent the last little while creating an interlinking network of dynamite as Raina paced around the room, occasionally making impatient noises.

“This is taking too much time,” Raina snapped. “We’ve got to get into the chamber. The stones-”

“Be quiet,” Ward growled. “We don’t want anyone following us, do we?”

Raina heaved a sigh and resumed her pacing, a gun hanging limply from her hand. She glanced occasionally in Fitz and Jemma’s direction, but otherwise ignored them, which was preferable to her threatening Jemma, so Fitz tried to look as harmless as possible.  

Jemma laid her head on his shoulder and exhaled quietly. “This really wasn’t how I imagined our first time seeing the pyramids.”

Fitz pressed a kiss to the crown of her head as she laced their fingers together. The rope wound around his wrists was beginning to slacken, but the last thing he wanted was to give Ward or Raina a reason to notice them, so he made no move to try and escape it. Not while Raina was standing in front of the only way out. At least imagining he was here under entirely different circumstances was a nice way to pass the time. “What were you thinking it’d be like, then?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Camels and sunshine and correcting the guide’s no doubt outdated facts. You’re much more knowledgeable.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Fitz said, unable to hold back his smile. “Even though you’ve already memorized my force to lift calculation lectures.”

“I told you,” Jemma lifted her head, her eyes shining impishly in the odd blue glow that lit the room. “That’s my favorite part.”

Fitz’s chest constricted as he drank her in, trying to hold onto hope that they’d figure a way out of this. Between Hunter’s injury and Ward having confiscated Coulson’s gun, there was no telling when backup would arrive, if it was even coming. Fitz wished there had been a way to leave Jemma out of this completely, but then, she would have been angry she wasn’t there to share the burden with him.

She truly was a marvel.

Leaning in, Fitz gently bussed her cheek, feeling guilty even as he did so about being distracted at a time like this, but she surprised him by turning to capture his mouth with hers, the kiss urgent and needy. He wiggled closer, clutching her hand, and she opened her mouth to him, letting his tongue explore the hidden depths within. She exhaled shakily and pulled back, brushing the tips of their noses together. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered, her eyes shining with tears. “But I wish you weren’t.”

“I feel the same,” he said, trying to smile. “Jemma, I…”

“Hey,” Ward barked, sounding annoyed. “Break it up over there. It’s showtime.”

Fitz clambered to his feet, taking the opportunity to stretch the rope around his wrists a little further. Just a bit more and he was sure he’d be able to slip it off, though there weren’t a lot of places for them to run where Ward wouldn’t have a clean shot. Damn narrow corridors.

Fitz was so busy making sure Jemma was right beside him, he almost missed it, if it hadn’t been for the blue light suddenly becoming a brilliant white. Ward let out a whoop as a whole section of wall slid aside, revealing another passageway, this one even narrower than the one they’d come from. Raina gasped and disappeared inside, but Ward turned to Fitz and Jemma, jerking his head towards the new doorway.

“Let’s go,” Ward said.

Fitz reluctantly stepped forward, Jemma clutching his elbow, and passed Ward, who was busy laying out the sticks of dynamite he’d linked. The glowing object seemed to have melded itself to the wall somehow, a phenomenon Fitz would have loved to examine if they weren’t fighting for their lives. He squeezed Jemma’s hand and she squeezed back, a silent acknowledgment of his observation. God, he loved her.

The path was long, and sloped down, with occasional narrow passages branching off into pitch black. They’d been walking for more than a few minutes when Fitz heard Ward curse, apparently upset that he’d run out of dynamite before they’d reached the end. There was no sign of Raina’s torchlight, and the bright light of the artifact faded in the distance until the darkness threatened to overwhelm them.

“There,” Ward said, giving Fitz’s shoulder a sharp poke as the passageway in front of them began to get lighter again. “Keep moving.”

With Jemma beside him, Fitz finally emerged into an absolutely cavernous room, and his jaw dropped. Those strange carvings they’d seen down near Luxor and in the Queen’s Chamber covered every wall, disappearing up into the gloom, and there was no way to tell how high the ceiling was since he couldn’t see it. The walls were smooth and curved and he couldn’t see the seams where the blocks should have been fitted together. It seemed impossible that something like this could have been carved out so deep underground thousands of years ago, and yet here he was, standing in the center of it.

“Fitz,” Jemma breathed beside him, her eyes wide. He could only nod.

Raina had finally unpacked her rucksack, and Fitz watched with deep foreboding as she placed four stones, all similar to the one he and Jemma had found, in a shallow indent at the center of the room. Ward handed her the satchel and she pulled out the stone Coulson had handed over, her face alight with something that chilled Fitz to his bones.

They needed to get out of this place.

Nudging Jemma with his shoulder, Fitz edged back towards the corridor, trying to move slowly enough so as not to draw attention. 

“We have them all?” Ward asked eagerly.

“There’s space for five,” Raina said, placing the last stone and completing the circle. “Just like I was told there would be. We did it.”

“How long will it take?” Ward asked, gazing raptly at the small circle of stones.

“Not long,” Raina said, smiling. She stood alongside the stones, staring just as attentively as Ward, and Fitz realized this was their chance. Quietly, he nudged Jemma back, taking a few tentative steps toward the corridor they’d emerged from.

The room began to vibrate, and Fitz moved a little faster, propelling Jemma along. If they could just get to the passage before Ward noticed they could…

The stones all suddenly melted, turning into an inky black liquid that seemed to seethe with an unknown force. Fitz froze in horror. Jemma’s fingers dug into his arm as they watched a great wave reach up from the center of the room and, as though it knew exactly what it wanted, engulf Raina before splashing back to the floor in a shallow pool. There was no body within it. She had disappeared.

The humming intensified.

Ward yelled something, pointing his gun at the unnatural pool, but Fitz didn’t care any longer about being noticed. Grabbing Jemma’s hand, he hauled her into the tunnel and began to run, his heart pounding in his ears. The whole place was rumbling, and the incline seemed much steeper going up than it had coming down, but they couldn’t slow down, not with whatever the hell that was and possibly Ward behind them. Jemma was panting as they hurried along, keeping pace with him as the light ahead slowly grew brighter. At least, she was, until she suddenly dropped to her hands and knees to the ground next to one of the last sticks of dynamite Ward had placed.

Fitz’s heart leapt into his throat, but she didn’t appear injured, just preoccupied. “Jemma!” Fitz managed to wrench one of his hands free, leaving the rope dangling around his other wrist, and hauling her back to her feet. “Come on!”

Jemma’s eyes were wide, and she might have been saying something but there wasn’t time for him to ask her to speak up. There was no way for him to know if Ward was following them, what with all the noise, and his whole body was tense as he waited for a bullet to the back, or, even worse, for Ward to force them to return to that place.

The passageway grew lighter, and Jemma kept glancing over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide as they hurried along, the vibrations growing stronger all the time. Fitz was surprised the whole place hadn’t started coming down around them. It really was a marvelous feat of engineering.

They stumbled back into the Queen’s Chamber, squinting against the light emanating from the object in the wall, and Jemma came to an abrupt halt, causing Fitz to nearly crash into her. “What are you…Jemma.”

Fitz clutched her shoulder as she struck a match. Her face pale, she knelt to touch it to the cord Ward had strung the dynamite on. Fitz wanted to grab her and kiss her, in these last moments they might have together, but there was still a chance they could escape, and he’d be damned if he was going to throw in the towel now. Grabbing Jemma’s hand as she stood again, Fitz yanked the glowing object out of the wall, surprised it budged at all, and ran towards the corridor that led back outside. The white glow faded to blue, and Fitz hoped against hope that he was really hearing the scrape of stone as the wall closed behind them and it wasn’t just his fevered imagination.

Bursting out of the Queen’s Chamber, they pelted down the hall. The object’s blue glow faded rapidly, and darkness began to set in. Something bright flashed ahead of them, and Fitz’s heart soared. “Coulson!” he yelled, just as a boom echoed through the hall, shaking the floor beneath them. Jemma stumbled and he caught her, wrapping his arms around her as they huddled together, bracing themselves against the wall. Another boom echoed through the corridor, the crack of explosive deep and menacing, and Fitz buried his face in her hair, trying to memorize everything about her. “I love you,” he murmured into her ear.

Jemma turned in his arms and kissed him fiercely, pulling back as a torch beam lit her face. There were dust and soot streaked across her cheek and he thought she might have been crying, even though she was smiling now. “I love you, too,” she said.

“Fitz!” someone yelled. “Jemma!”

“Here!” Fitz yelled back as another explosion went off, this one sounding more distant than the first. The stones around them were surprisingly intact, and with Jemma wrapped in his arms and her lips working their way along his jaw, he was inclined to wait right there for their rescue.

After all, Jemma had said she’d wanted to see the pyramids with him.

***

Jemma was exhausted.

The rumble of the car engine would have been enough to put her to sleep if the roads had been smoother, but instead, they were jouncing along while she swung between consciousness and the edge of sleep. She was tucked securely against Fitz’s side, warm and comfortable and, for the first time in hours, she wasn’t afraid they were about to be killed. It was a very soothing combination.

Mr. Coulson was behind the wheel with May beside him quietly providing directions at various intervals. They’d left quite a bevy of commotion at the pyramid site, where it seemed half the Egyptian army had turned up, and Jemma had no doubt, based on the no-nonsense tone of the man ordering everyone about, that by morning no tourists would ever be able to tell that several explosive charges had been detonated deep underneath the Great Pyramid.

The rest of their wild night: the secret corridor, the enormous chamber, the rocks that could change their state of matter at will, were things she and Fitz had agreed to elaborate on later, once they were back at the hotel and sure everyone was safe.

They drove over a bridge and Jemma watched the dark water of the Nile flow by, looking mysterious and grand, but no less beautiful than it did in the daylight. It might be her favorite body of water in the world if one could have such a thing. It had nourished an ancient civilization for thousands of years and brought her Fitz. Plus, the lovely steamer trip along it had certainly provided for a lot of excellent memories.

Perhaps they could make more now that they’d more or less accomplished their mission.

Jemma covered her mouth as she let out a yawn, and Fitz absentmindedly kissed her temple. He’d handed the strange artifact over to Mr. Coulson immediately, the glow almost completely gone, and it had quickly disappeared into Mr. Coulson’s pockets before the Egyptian authorities had come charging in, demanding to know what had happened.

Elena had been invaluable with her translation skills, and Mack had cut off the ropes still wound around Jemma’s wrists while everyone vehemently argued about who was going to go assess the damage first. She rather liked all the people Mr. Coulson surrounded himself with. It was sad to think she might not see many of them again.

“How is Hunter?” Jemma asked.

May glanced back at her. “The bleeding had slowed when Bobbi let us know where you all were, but he wasn’t in great shape.”

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Coulson added. “I’m pretty sure he’s too stubborn to die.”

“Bobbi wouldn’t let him,” Fitz mumbled. He must be as tired as she felt.

They all lapsed into silence for the remainder of the ride, and Jemma had never been so glad to see the lights of their hotel looming in the distance. The streets were much quieter than they had been during the day. “It’s late,” Jemma said.

“Gone midnight,” Mr. Coulson said. “But I bet there’s still a few people up and waiting for us.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when Piper walked out of the front doors of the hotel. “I hope they saved us something from dinner,” Mr. Coulson said.

“Dinner?” Fitz repeated, sounding suddenly more alert as they clambered out of the car.

Piper looked relieved to see them, though she only nodded at Coulson before turning and leading them back into the hotel. “I thought everyone might be hungry,” Piper said. “Come on.”

They followed her obediently through the lobby and up the wide, majestic staircase to a suite that was grander than any Jemma had ever seen. Daisy was lounging on a chaise, but she sprang up immediately as everyone came into the room.

“Jemma!” Daisy swooped in and hugged her tightly. “Are you alright? Oh my gosh.” Daisy pulled back and glanced over at Fitz. “Bobbi told us some of what happened while we waited for the doctor, but it sounded like everything was totally hinky. Did they get Ward?”

Jemma shook her head and gratefully accepted the cup of tea Piper handed over before catching Daisy’s elbow. “Maybe we should let them sit down before they fall down,” Piper said, a smile playing on her lips.

Fitz put a hand on the small of Jemma’s back, guiding her toward the table with a few covered dishes on it. “Thank god,” he sighed, pulling out a chair for Jemma before settling next to her and dragging the dishes closer. Jemma made him a cup of tea, placing it at his elbow, while everyone finished their greetings and joined them. Her brain was still sluggish, but the food smelled amazing.

Mr. Coulson took the artifact out of his pocket and set it on the table. It looked more ordinary, now that it wasn’t glowing, though clearly it wasn’t Egyptian in origin. “Is this all we have left?” he asked. “What happened to the stone?”

Jemma glanced at Fitz, unsure how to describe half the things they’d seen. It was just now sinking in that not only had setting off that dynamite probably destroyed the secret corridor, she’d nearly blown up a pyramid. That would have been a terrible end to her first season in Egypt. “The stone’s gone,” Fitz replied with conviction.

Mr. Coulson nodded. “You two sure you’re alright?”

“We are,” Jemma said. “Though, did Ward…”

Mr. Coulson shook his head. “No sign of Ward. There was some minor damage to the main chambers, from what I understand, but nothing close to the destruction there should have been, based on the amount of dynamite we heard going off.”

“There was another corridor, a hidden one,” Fitz said. “And an undiscovered chamber. Raina…” he paused, frowning.

“Was swallowed by the stones,” Jemma finished.

“What?” Mr. Coulson looked perplexed.

Jemma lifted one shoulder. “Honestly, I saw it and still find it rather unbelievable.”

“Huh.” Mr. Coulson said. “Maybe Mack was right about the pyramids.”

Fitz narrowed his eyes, his mouth full of food, and Jemma patted his leg under the table. “It was certainly extraordinary, but I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

“If there is, I’m sure you two will find it,” Mr. Coulson said.

Bobbi plopped down at the table and pulled the teapot closer, taking off the top to smell it before wrinkling her nose. “Is there coffee?” Mr. Coulson slid a carafe in her direction and Bobbi poured herself a cup. “Thank you. And that bastard better be dead, or he’s going to wish he was.”

“How’s Hunter?” Mr. Coulson asked.

“He’ll live,” Bobbi said, relief filling her voice. “Clean shot, the doctor said. But he’s taking it easy for a while.” She narrowed her eyes at Mr. Coulson.

Mr. Coulson lifted his hands in a silent surrender. “I think he’s earned some time off.”

“Good.” Bobbi sipped her coffee.

“We’ve all earned a break,” Mr. Coulson added, leaning back in his chair and draping an arm across the back of May’s chair.

Daisy winked at Jemma. “Good, then we can get back to planning a wedding.”

Jemma let out a startled laugh and even May cracked a smile.

“Oh!” Fitz set his fork down. “I almost forgot, after…well, everything.” He dug into his pockets, muttering under his breath. “Ah, here it is,” Pulling out a small cloth bag, Fitz pushed his chair back from the table while Jemma watched, confused, right up until he dropped down on one knee.

Jemma had no idea what to say as she stared at the ring in his hand, the stone a blue that reminded her of his eyes. “Fitz-” she began. 

“I know I already asked, but I wanted to do it properly,” Fitz said. His brow furrowed. “Christ, I probably should have waited until I’d taken you out on a real date, shouldn’t I?”

Mr. Coulson patted his shoulder. “You’re doing fine.”

“I’ve already said yes,” Jemma laughed, reaching out to take his hands in hers. “Twice, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Well then, J. A. Simmons,” Fitz said, his lips twitching up in a grin. “Would you do me the honor of working with me for the rest of our lives?”

Daisy whooped across the table as Jemma leaned forward and kissed him softly. “Dear Mr. Leopold Fitz,” she said. “Nothing would make me happier.”


	16. A Wedding

Chapter 16: A Wedding

“I think a little more-” Daisy made a strange hand gesture that Jemma couldn’t begin to understand.

Another pin slid into her hair. “Like this?” Bobbi asked, frowning critically at the fascinator she was securing onto Jemma’s head.

“Perfect!” Daisy crowed. She reached out to adjust one of Jemma’s curls.

“Can I look now?” Jemma asked. She’d been forbidden to peek, and while she appreciated their help, she was rather impatient to get to the actual marriage part. It felt like it’d been ages since she’d seen Fitz, even if it’d only been one night.

“Almost,” Bobbi said, wielding a tin of rouge.

“Bob?” a voice called from the other room.

“Just a minute, Hunter.”

“That’s what you said ten minutes ago!” Hunter appeared in the doorway of the hotel bedroom, leaning heavily on a cane.

Daisy gasped and flung herself in front of Jemma with outstretched arms. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!”

“I’m not marrying her! Besides, I saw plenty of Bob before our wedding.”

“Lance,” Bobbi said, sounding amused.

“This damn suit is making my leg itch.”

“You’re wearing the suit,” Bobbi said. “The doctor said your leg is healing just fine.”

“He’s not the one who got shot, is he?”

Bobbi rolled her eyes and dabbed a bit of rouge on Jemma’s lower lip. “You sure you want to get married?” she asked. The charm Hunter had given her was strung on a delicate chain around her neck, and it caught the light, the gold glinting.

“Quite sure, thank you,” Jemma said cheerfully, pressing her lips together to set the color. “Are we finished?”

“I told Fitz I would be there by now,” Hunter said. “Someone’s got to keep him from running off.” He shot Jemma a wink and waved his cane. “Even if he heads for the stairs, I can probably trip him up.”

“Almost done,” Bobbi said, smoothing the rogue across Jemma’s cheek.

“I can walk down with you,” Piper said, picking up the suit jacket slung over the back of the chaise she’d been sitting on. “Looks like they’ve got this under control.

Hunter’s face fell and Bobbi shot him a fond look. “I’m finished,” she said, “We can head down.” She handed the rouge over to Daisy and snagged a pastry from the dressing table before tucking her arm under the one Hunter offered and heading out the door.

Jemma had barely touched the tea things someone had brought up, her stomach felt like it was too full of butterflies for anything else. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright, and could hardly believe she was about to be a married woman. Reaching up, she touched the fascinator Bobbi had secured. It sat jauntily atop her face-framing curls, and the whole effect was quite…well, she’d never thought it would be her, dressed in white and over the moon to be participating in what she used to consider a rather frivolous ritual.

“You’re a babe,” Daisy pronounced, opening the rouge and adding a bit to her own cheeks.

Jemma couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “The dress is lovely.” She ran her hands over the layers of lace and silk that hung to just below her knees.

Daisy beamed at her in the mirror. “I knew it would be hotsy-totsy. Just needed some finishing touches.” She adjusted one of Jemma’s delicate cap sleeves, the hem shimmering with beadwork.

“I don’t think my own mother would recognize me,” Jemma laughed.

Daisy’s expression turned serious. “Are you sure you’re alright with them not being here?”

Jemma spent a moment forming her reply. She’d received a carefully worded telegram bearing good wishes from her parents three days after sending them news of her engagement, and it had spoken volumes. They’d included no mention of traveling to Egypt or an inquiry as to when she might bring her new husband home to meet them. “This is exactly how I want my wedding day to be,” Jemma said firmly. “Here in Egypt, in the garden, with all of you in attendance. Family isn’t just about blood.”

Leaning down, Daisy gave her a quick hug, careful not to muss her hair. “No, it’s not.”

In the nearly two weeks since the incident at the pyramids, Jemma and Fitz had spent some time discussing what their future might look like, and they’d both agreed they wouldn’t be spending much of it at home. Not yet, anyway. There was the issue of securing a new patron while being unable to tout their recent experience in the field, but they had the rest of the season to work on that. 

Perhaps after her parents got used to the idea that she was going to continue working side-by-side with her husband for the rest of their days, she and Fitz could visit. Her mother was bound to soften when faced with the prospect of grandchildren, and despite agreeing with Fitz the time wasn’t quite right, Jemma couldn’t stop picturing curly-haired children with bright blue eyes.

“You girls ready?” May asked, poking her head into the room.

“As we’ll ever be,” Daisy said, straightening up.

Jemma stood, feeling the butterflies in her stomach multiply. “Is it time?”

May nodded, stepping into the room and giving her a smile. “Fitz has been asking that for an hour.”

Jemma let out a laugh, and the nervous fluttering in her belly eased.

“Madame,” Piper said, brandishing a small bouquet of jasmines. Jemma took them, her hand shaking slightly, and inhaled their heady scent. She knew it was silly to be nervous after everything she and Fitz had been through together, but this still felt slightly unreal. Maybe it was less unreal than stones swallowing people, but that was rather a high bar.

“Let’s go get you kids hitched,” Daisy said cheerfully, linking arms with Piper.

“Yes, let’s,” Jemma breathed. She’d wanted an adventure, and she’d certainly gotten one.

***

Fitz couldn’t stop pacing.

He knew from Mack’s amused expression that he must look a bit manic, but he’d woken up alone this morning for the first time in weeks, and he hadn’t enjoyed it in the slightest. Quite frankly, the sooner he laid eyes on his fiancée—nearly wife—again, the better. He really hadn’t seen the point in giving in to some blasted superstition about not seeing the bride before the wedding, but Jemma been swept out in the door of their room last night by a rather insistent fleet of women, and he hadn’t dared contradict them.

“Mack said you’re making him dizzy,” a voice behind him said, and Fitz whirled around to find Coulson standing there, a small smile on his face. “May just went upstairs to check on them.”

The hotel garden was quiet this time of the day, which was why Jemma had picked it, and while the palm trees and lush greenery around him should have been soothing, Fitz was a bundle of nerves. It was foolish to be worried Jemma wouldn’t appear, but he still didn’t think he’d relax until she was back by his side.

“I have some news if you’re interested,” Coulson said, lifting his chin in acknowledgment as Hunter and Bobbi came into view. Hunter was moving quite a bit slower than Fitz was used to, though he’d seemed almost back to his old self at the pub last night, using his cane more as a prop for his ridiculous stories than to support himself. Bobbi was tucked up against his side, smiling at him as Hunter navigated a shallow step, and Fitz suspected Hunter might be taking a bit longer to recover than was entirely necessary.

“About Ward?” Fitz asked, turning back to Coulson.

“In a way,” Coulson said. “There’s still no sign of him.”

“Did you-”

“The deputy chief arranged for a private tour of the pyramids this morning and I tried to open the door just like you and Jemma described. But that wall in the Queen’s Chamber seems to be too damaged to work anymore. There was no glowing, no hidden corridor, nothing.”

Fitz’s shoulders slumped in relief. “It might be for the best.”

“Maybe.” Coulson shrugged. “At least this site doesn’t seem like a threat anymore.”

 Fitz watched Hunter exaggeratedly limp in their direction as Coulson’s words registered. “This site?”

“We’ve got word of something strange in Peru.”

“Peru?” Hunter repeated as he came to halt beside Coulson.

“You’re not going anywhere until you’re cleared for duty,” Coulson said.

Hunter’s face fell. “That’s going to take forever.”

“Better than me having to explain to your wife why I’m trying to get you shot again.”

Grinning, Hunter looked over his shoulder at Bobbi, who was seated next to Elena and laughing about something that had Mack shaking his head. “She is something, isn’t she?”

“So,” Coulson said. “You think Jemma might be interested?”

“In what?” Fitz asked, confused.

“He’s asking you to go to Peru, mate,” Hunter nudged him.

“Us?” Fitz asked. “I mean, we know the basics, but the culture is quite different, and we’d have to take a crash course in-”

“So, yes,” Coulson interrupted, looking pleased. “Great. I’ll let the home office know.” He waved as May appeared in the distance.

“What just happened?” Fitz said.

Hunter clapped him on the shoulder. “I think you and your wife just became Coulson’s personal experts.”

“Jemma’s not my wife yet.”

Hunter snorted. “She will be in another five minutes.”

“If she turns up,” Fitz said, rubbing his sweaty palms against his trousers.

“I think she just did,” Hunter said. He gave Fitz a wink and turned to make his way to where Bobbi and the others were sitting.

Fitz watched Daisy and Piper exit the hotel, followed by the most exquisite woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Jemma paused in the threshold, her gaze seeking him out, and Fitz’s pulse pounded in his ears. She was a vision, dressed in a creamy color that set off her skin, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright.

He’d never seen anyone more beautiful, and she’d agreed to be his wife.

If he weren’t standing in the middle of a garden with all his friends watching, he might have pinched himself, but the fact that they were all there in the first place told him he wasn’t dreaming. He could never have dreamt up an adventure like this, and certainly not one that was ending so happily. Jemma was going to be over the moon about Peru.

She walked toward him with a smile on her face, and Fitz felt a flash of pity for the him who, a few short months ago, had no idea he was writing to the most amazing woman in the world. Perhaps on their way to Karnack for their honeymoon, he’d take up his pen again and let Jemma know just how glad he was to have met her.

And then he’d show her, too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've reached the end! I can't thank everyone who joined me on this journey enough. It's been too fun sharing this with you, thank you for the support!

**Author's Note:**

> I am neither an archeologist nor a historian, so please excuse any anachronisms. Google and I did our best! 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @robotgort


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